


The Eternal Spirit of the Heroes

by TallyAce



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: All potential trigger warnings are listed at the beginning of the chapters, Angst, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Character Death, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Mild Language, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Off-screen Character Death, PTSD, Trust me about the comfort, Violence, Visions, Visions of the past/future, and for heavy topics and frequent references to death, please heed them, rated mature to be safe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25852099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TallyAce/pseuds/TallyAce
Summary: Each hero knew of the pain of death. It plagued their thoughts and dreams, embedded in their minds for as long as they could remember. They felt the pain as if it were their own, shooting awake clutching wounds that they had never suffered.The hero's spirit was never meant to remember anything of its previous incarnation, especially not of its death. Despite this, each and every hero had the death of another ingrained in their mind.It took some of the heroes longer than others to realize why one of their companions in particular felt so sickeningly familiar.(In which the hero's spirit fails to forget all the memories of the previous hero before reincarnating, and each Link carries the memory of their predecessor's death.)
Relationships: (brief), Link/Malon (Legend of Zelda), Link/Tetra (Legend of Zelda), Malon (Legend of Zelda)/Time (Linked Universe), Tetra (Legend of Zelda)/Wind (Linked Universe)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 187
Collections: RaeLynn's Epic Rec List





	The Eternal Spirit of the Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> (Check end notes for clarity on the Major Character Death warning before reading if that warning or the tags make your uneasy.) 
> 
> This idea stemmed from the fact that the heroes will all have to say goodbye one day, and the hero's spirit must pass on eventually.
> 
> TW for: Blood, violence, off-screen murder, off-screen character death, mentions of ptsd, hallucinations, disorientation

Warriors was terrified of the ocean, he had been for as long as he could remember. 

As a child, no one could understand why he could possibly be scared of the sea. Some assumed his fears stemmed from the old fishermen stories that the men loved to spew. Tales where the waves always seemed to eat up the sky and the fish were the size of the castle. 

A few adults would even laugh at him, ruffling his hair and singing him empty promises of safety and reassurance. “The ocean isn’t scary,” they would say, their voice dripping with the subtle annoyance that always seemed laced in their feigned kindness. “You have nothing to be afraid of,” they would say. 

His haunted, hollow gaze at the mere mention of the sea was ignored, written off as the untamed imagination of a child. He would grow out of it, it was only natural. 

Afterall, a child who had never even _seen_ the ocean couldn’t possibly be afraid of it. 

As he grew older, his fear never faded. When he would tense at the mention of the sea, people began to assume he was afraid of drowning. That made perfect sense, because who wasn’t afraid of suffocating under the waves? 

His parents taught him to swim in a nearby pond before he ever even began his schooling, hoping to stamp out his irrational fear before it could truly take root. Even after becoming confident in the water, his fear stuck around, and people began to roll their eyes. In their minds, he was simply being stubborn. He refused to let go of a simple fear, and he let it rule him. 

At age ten he finally confessed his true fear, and earned nothing but taunts and jeers. 

He wasn’t afraid of the sea, but rather, those who inhabited the waves. He feared not creatures of the deep, but of men who waged war on the current itself. The others laughed because he was afraid of something that no longer existed. 

Because pirates hadn’t been seen in New Hyrule’s waters for nearly six-hundred years. 

They’d disbanded shortly after the establishment of New Hyrule all those years ago, driven out of the waters so the people could live and travel in peace. Pirates only existed in story books and wivestales, woven into stories of caution and foolishness. 

Warriors’ parents insisted that he stop reading so many fairy tales, and that he spent more time with the town's children his age. He supposed that’s where his love for sword-fighting first began, in that rundown barn he and the other kids had waged pretend battles inside. 

Of course, being the frailest and smallest kid in the bunch, he was forced to play the damsel in distress more often than not. He never complained, sitting silently on the edge of the rotting loft at the top of the barn, watching the other kids fight while he kicked his feet over the edge, doing everything in his power to keep his intrusive thoughts away. 

Because those thoughts terrified him more than anything else in the world, even more than pirates. 

It took a while of begging and building up courage, but he was eventually freed from his damsel position in the group. He was finally allowed to join the bigger kids in their games, and he sucked at it. 

Really, _really_ sucked at it. 

But it was in the moldy hay and cobwebs that Warriors found solace in his mind for the first time. Holding the lichen covered sticks and picking out the deep splinters when he got home grounded him in a way that nothing else could. 

Fighting gave him focus, forced him to concentrate on the ‘sword’ in his hands and the movements of his opponent. The grinning faces that were seared into his thoughts faded, the deep crimson that coated his eyes disappearing when all his focus was on the fight. 

He got better and became a knight. Knighthood brought its own slew of terrors, burning things into his mind that joined his nightmarish dreams. 

Most of his nightmares were of the war, how could they not be? The memories crashed together into a screaming amalgamation. He felt the pain of the triforce ripping away from his soul, tasted the burning of his own flesh under the fiery breath of the dragon knight. 

Yet when he awoke, it all faded away into nothing more than a vague feeling. The memories of his time in the war were never vivid, simply violent feelings and images that flashed together in unnatural ways, only ever making sense in the logic of night. 

The dark waves crashing against the bow of the bloodstained ship, however, still stung fresh in his mind no matter how old he grew. The wide, twisted grins looming over him, the flashes of lightning that soaked the deck in blood and rain, those never faded. 

He could taste the salt and blood on his tongue each time he awoke, feel the chill in his fingers from blood loss and the heat of the blade piercing his heart. 

And it had only become more prominent after he began traveling with the other heroes. 

Each of them had their own struggles, had their own sleepless nights filled with endless nightmares that tore them awake. As cruel as it was, Warriors was almost thankful that they all carried some sort of trauma on their back. He never had to explain himself or his nightmare induced awakening like he did back home, was never looked down on or pitied for startling out of a vivid memory. Everyone understood, could relate in some way. 

Sometimes Sky would pull him away if he was having a bad night, rattling on about interesting loftwing facts or about a necklace he had purchased for his Zelda back home. He did this with any hero who was having a hard time, but that didn’t mean Warriors didn’t appreciate it any less. 

Even Time would try his best to help the others, pulling them aside to just sit in silence. The deep understanding and sadness in his expression would always manage to rip through any of Warriors’ remaining terror, allowing him to just take in the silence, to take in the company. 

The other heroes were crazy, but they were home. They were family, and Warriors couldn’t stand to think of a time where they would no longer be together. 

* * *

The sun bit at Warriors’ neck, burning it the same red as his flushed cheeks. Despite the sweat trickling down his brow and heat simmering his skin he found himself grinning, shifting his weight in anticipation. 

“Fix your stance, Sailor,” he called, a light laugh in his breathy words. “Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own feet in the midst of battle.” 

Just twenty or so paces away Wind grinned, shrugging his shoulders back before shaking the tension away. His chest heaved slightly, but not to the extent that Warriors’ did. “I’ve gone my entire life without your ‘knight stances’ and I haven’t tripped once.”

“That doesn’t mean you never will,” Warriors retorted, wiping the sweat from his palm before wrenching his sword from the dirt. 

From the sidelines Twilight scoffed, dabbing at his forehead with his cloak, tossing it aside. “He’s just speaking from experience.” 

“Oh? Brave words from the man who fought like a featherless cucco in our last spar.” 

Twilight laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “And even braver words from the soldier who _lost_ that spar.” 

“That’s _Captain_ to you,” Warriors twirled the sword in his hand without thought. “And I do believe I won that spar.” 

“In your dreams, maybe.” 

“Would the winner of that last spar be sitting on the sidelines, licking his wounds like a dog?” Warriors teased, pointing the tip of his sword in Twilight’s direction and earning a snort from the farm boy. 

A light summer’s breeze brushed through the sparse foliage above, shaking pollen and flowers loose from their perches so they could fall down upon the makeshift sparring grounds. The heroes had only established camp for a few hours, and already the grass had been torn in patches, trampled by the boots of restless heroes. 

Only Wind, Warriors, and Twilight occupied the ground in that moment. Some of the heroes had sparred earlier and decided to take a break, others had promised to join in at a later time. 

But the three of them were having enough fun themselves that it didn’t really matter.

“Are you gonna keep flappin’ your gob or are we gonna actually spar?” Wind huffed, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he tossed his blade back and forth between his hands. 

“Once our ‘brave knight in shining armor’ can keep his mind off wooing fair maidens long enough to focus you’ll get your spar,” Twilight laughed, leaning his head back to rest it against the pine tree at his back. “Though you might be waiting a while, Sailor.” 

Warriors clenched a hand over his chest in mock betrayal, letting his sword drop back to his side. “Are you suggesting I don’t give my undivided attention during a fight?” 

Cracking open an eye and tilting his head just enough to look at Warriors, Twilight shrugged. “I’d say you’re pretty distracted right now.” 

The blunt end of Wind’s sword hilt jabbed into Warriors’ gut before he could react, sending him staggering back with a wheeze. The Sailor stood with a wide grin, twirling his blade with a cocky confidence that reminded Warriors a little too much of himself from the early days of the war. 

Little bastard. 

With a groan Warriors steadied himself, clutching his stomach and pointing a sword toward the grinning Sailor. “Rule number one, don’t start swinging until the spar has actually begun.” 

“There are no rules on the sea,” Wind laughed. He fell back into a loose stance, taking a few steps back. “And you’re the one that told me to strike while my enemy was distracted. I’m just following orders.”

If the air hadn’t just gotten knocked from his lungs, Warriors might’ve been impressed. He hadn’t thought Wind actually retained anything from their mini training sessions; their training sessions where Warriors tried to teach the Sailor basic fighting techniques and Wind proved time and time again that he didn’t need them. 

The younger hero always seemed to march to the beat of his own drum, rarely taking any advice from the other heroes if his way of doing things was working just fine. Time was an exception, of course. Whether it be due to fear or admiration, Wind almost always listened to whatever Time had to say. 

The Sailor still had the nerve to look proud of himself as Warriors dusted the last bit of dirt from his pants. Dirt smeared Wind’s sun kissed cheeks, blending in with the faint freckles that only darkened in the sun. It was when he was like that, covered in dirt and a smile, that Warriors was reminded that he was still just a kid.

The youngest hero practically fed off the unbounded, endless nature of the forest surrounding them, fitting right in with nature in much the same way Hyrule and Wild did. 

But he was most at home near the sea, his sun bleached hair ruffling in the salt rich breeze, his smile matching the warmth of the sun. The heroes always made an effort to pass by any nearby beaches on their travels, if only to give Wind a few moments of peace for himself. 

Each hero had somewhere they felt most at home. For some it was the dense forests, and others it was the little towns they occasionally passed through. 

Wind felt at home on the sea, but he would settle for the shore. 

Running a hand through his hair, Warriors couldn’t help but notice all the small knots that had formed since that morning, almost glued together by dirt and sweat. “Well this isn’t the sea, Sailor. You can’t just fight dirty like that and expect to get away with it.” 

“At least not in a spar,” Twilight chimed in, having sat up fully to address Wind. “Fighting dirty can be beneficial in a life or death situation, but never in a friendly spar.” 

Wind shrugged, drawing lines in the dirt with the tip of his sword. “I’ve always fought dirty when sparring with Tetra and her crew.” 

Sighing, Warriors pinched the bridge of his nose, an action mirrored by Twilight. The farmhand’s voice dripped with pure and utter exasperation, “I don’t know what sorta people you make a habit of sparring with, but they obviously don’t know the first things about a fair fight.” 

“Well, duh,” Wind scoffed, as if it were obvious. “They’re pirates.” 

Warriors’ heart stopped. 

The sting of frigid saltwater crashed down on him in a wave, knocking the air from his lungs and clarity from his mind. His chest _burned_ , digging into his lungs and suffocating him. The weight in his heart dug against each weak beat, clawing into his flesh and ripping him apart. 

The clearing only twisted and melted in the sudden storm, bleeding with rain and coating what had once been dirt, but had been warped into blood stained wood. Wind and Twilight stood stark against the flash of lightning, only to melt into looming, sneering figures as the air shook with an ear-splitting boom. 

The metal digging into his chest froze him in place, limiting his breathing to shallow gasps and coughs. He couldn’t see, couldn’t _think_ beyond the pain. 

A cool hand shocked him back to the sunny clearing like a bucket of ice water. 

Wind’s palm squeezed his arm, quite literally tethering him to the present. The blood on Warriors’ tongue didn’t fade, and in his dazed state he could only wonder if he had bit through it on accident. 

“...Captain, you okay?”  
  
Warriors nearly jumped out of his skin at how close Twilight’s voice was, snapping his head to the side to see the farmhand hovering right next to him. “You went quiet on us for a minute there.”

The ground seemed to wobble under his feet, his hands shaking like leaves caught in a storm. Despite the growing pit of fear in his cold, hollow chest, Warriors stiffly nodded. “Yeah.”

Wind fidgeted, yet his grip on Warriors’ arm tightened. “Did you have a flashback?” His voice was small, a stark contrast from the cocky confidence it had held just moments prior. 

Knowledge of Warriors’ war flashbacks was commonplace, each hero knew and Warriors wasn’t ashamed of it. Twilight had shown the most sympathy to him once they all found out, saying that his father Rusl dealt with it a lot. 

Each and every one of the heroes struggled with something, having their bad days, weeks, or even just hours. Warriors’ bad moments just happened more suddenly than the others. 

But that sure as hell hadn’t been a flashback. That was his nightmare, the one that plagued his mind ever since he was a child. It wasn't uncommon for that nightmare to pop into his daily thoughts. He had to stamp it out often, lest it consume his waking mind and drown him in anguish. 

It had _never_ torn reality out from under his feet like a rug before, leaving him as confused and fragile as his flashbacks did.

That hadn’t been normal, not in the slightest. 

Warriors nodded, too shaken up to care that he was lying straight through his teeth. “Yeah. Just a flashback.” 

“Do you need to sit down for a minute?” Twilight’s hands rested on Warriors’ shoulders, trying to steady him with a firm grip, yet failing. 

Shaking his head proved to be a bad idea, causing Warriors to groan and frantically blink away the onset of dizziness the action brought. “I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Twilight couldn’t hide the worry in his voice. “I can go grab Hyrule if you aren’t feeling well.” 

Warriors took a deep breath to compose himself, trying to ignore the way it caught in his throat and stuttered. “No, I’m okay. Just need a minute.” 

Making an effort to steady himself, Warriors found himself staring up at the sparse canopy above. Sunlight streamed through the vibrant leaves and soft flowers, brushing against his numb skin. It wasn’t raining, he wasn’t on a boat, he wasn’t dying. He was in a forest with his family. He was okay. 

Yet looking down, all he could see was blood. 

It stuck to Wind like a parasite, clawing into his empty hole of a chest and dripping off him like water from a spile. He stared up at Warriors with empty eyes, the vibrant blue long since drained into an unseeing white. 

He opened his mouth, unfazed by the inky water pouring from his lips. His words did not gurgle in the water, his breath did not catch in his throat and suffocate him, for his chest did not move. He wasn’t breathing. 

“Captain?” 

Like a lightning bolt Warriors felt his strength leave his legs. He surged forward, only held upright by Twilight’s renewed grip on him. A blink, and the blood was gone. Wind stood next to him with nothing but concern plastered across his face. 

He only barely registered Twilight lowering him to the ground, Wind’s hand remaining glued to his arm. 

“I’m gonna go grab Hyrule, keep him steady.” Twilight let go of Warriors only after the Captain had fully slumped into the dirt. At Wind’s quick nod, he practically raced back to camp, his cloak still discarded by the trees. 

The Sailor had lowered himself onto his knees in front of Warriors, holding one of his shoulders with one hand, and pressing the other against Warriors’ forehead. “You don’t feel hot...” 

Warriors couldn’t find it in him to look Wind in the eyes. “I’m just shaken, Sailor.” 

They sat in silence, the sound of Warriors’ shaking breaths providing a sort of uncomfortable distraction for him. He focused on the way his chest rose and fell, how his chest stung with ice where it had burned just moments ago. 

“...You forfeited that last spar, so technically I won.” 

Despite the panic in his heart, Warriors found himself laughing, pushing the hand on his forehead away. “Well you cheated, so I win by default.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

The laughter did nothing to ease his knotted gut, only twisting it tighter than Warriors thought possible. He felt sick, but he couldn’t decide if it was just in his head or if he was actually ill. Part of him hoped for the latter, if only because it was much easier to understand and explain. 

He could feel Wind’s eyes on him, but he was a coward who could not find the courage to meet his gaze. Because that’s what he really was, a coward who pretended to be something bigger, something better. 

He pretended to be brave, when he was absolutely terrified of his own mind. 

“...I saw a deer yesterday.” 

Wind’s small words were almost enough to get Warriors to glance up in pure and utter confusion, but he simply clenched his fists in the dirt. He knew what Wind was doing, but it wasn’t going to help. 

Especially when Wind’s voice sent a nauseating chill down his spine. 

“Wind—” 

The Sailor continued anyway, squeezing Warriors’ shoulder. “It was really big. I thought it was a monster for a good second.” 

“Wind, please I—” 

“And it had these big horns that—” 

“Wind,” Warriors’ voice was firm, and yet he could not stop the small crack that escaped his lips, betraying his facade. 

The Sailor froze, his knuckles white as he gripped onto Warriors’ shoulders like a lifeline. Finding the nerve to finally look up, all Warriors saw was the deflated form of a kid, his face hidden by his hair.

“Sorry, I just,” Wind sighed, running a hand through his hair before letting it rest on his neck. “I just wanted to distract you.” 

Warriors’ hand shook as he reached forward, setting it on Wind’s head and ruffling his hair, a weak, jittery imitation of an action he had so often done. “I appreciate it, but just ... not right now.” 

It wasn’t hard to hear the footsteps approaching in the dead silence. If he strained his hearing, Warriors could hear the faint scuffle of camp, the boots pounding against dirt and grass. 

“I’m sorry I cheated.” 

“It’s okay,” Warriors reassured. He was almost certain his voice did not carry the tone nor the emotion he wanted, but he was too shaken to truly care. His mind was occupied with regulating his shuddering breath and focusing on the blue of Wind’s eyes. 

Blue, not white, not dead. He was there, he was _breathing_. 

Tangling his fingers into his stray neck hairs, Wind whispered barely loud enough for anyone but himself to hear, “I won’t do it again.” 

Finding no words to form a proper response, Warriors resigned himself to staring at the ground in silence. He could feel Wind’s eyes on him, could feel the endless questions, the _guilt_ that had poured from Wind’s voice. 

The Sailor had no reason to feel guilty, but Warriors had no way of letting Wind know that in his state. He couldn’t trust himself to get the words out without his voice cracking, without his thin shell of courage shattering into salt-rich air. 

The chill of his own hands caught Warriors’ attention, and he found himself clenching and unclenching his hands cautiously. He could feel his blood run cold as he stared at his hands, cringing at the way his fingers seemed to stick together like glue, becoming heavier and heavier. 

The silence of the clearing didn’t last long, broken by the frantic worrying of Hyrule as he and Twilight raced into the clearing, Legend trailing behind. Wind’s hand left Warriors’ shoulder long before he ever noticed the lack of contact, too focused on his hands. 

He barely felt Hyrule and Twilight’s grip on his arms, just the pricks of warmth on his numb skin. Stumbling under their support, he managed to stand. His mind never left his hands, which seemed to be the only part of him he could truly feel. 

Each crack of the joints, each stretch and tear of the skin over his knuckles. He felt the creased in his fingers seal shut, slowly stripping him of the sense of feel, the sense of motion in his palms. 

He followed the others back to camp without comprehending where he was, not even registering his own sluggish steps. 

His focus was on his hands, and the thick blood that lathered his skin in the fleeting moments between lucidity and disorientation. 

He found himself shutting his eyes, if only to hide from the nightmare that had begun to bleed into his reality. 

* * *

The untouched bowl in his hands only seemed to worsen the sickness that twisted Warriors’ stomach. He felt nauseous at the mere thought of raising a spoonful of soup to his lips, though the empty pit in his gut only seemed to grow deeper the longer he stared at the cold soup. 

He felt bad about not eating, but there was little he could do to help it. It was only made worse by the disheartened glances Hyrule kept shooting him throughout the night, his eyes flickering between Warriors and the brimming bowl of cream of mushroom soup. 

It’d been Hyrule’s first time cooking since he’d been practically forced to practice cooking under Wild’s watch. After his botched attempt at dinner when Wild was sick just a month prior, Time had practically _ordered_ that Hyrule learn to cook. 

Because by the goddesses, Warriors didn’t know how to cook and even he would know enough to not give everyone food poisoning. 

Though if the surprised faces of the other heroes and their empty bowls said anything, it was that Hyrule had done a much better job than before. 

Even as Hyrule’s hurt expression pierced through his heart, Warriors couldn’t find the energy to comfort him. It had nothing to do with the soup. It was everything to do with Wind. The Sailor sat across the fire, the orange glow casting dark shadows under his eyes. He kept shooting the Captain glances each time he thought Warriors wasn’t looking. But Warriors hadn’t tore his eyes off Wind all night, staring at the youngest hero’s face and watching it flicker between nightmare and reality. 

One moment Wind would turn to Four, laughing about something that didn’t hit Warriors’ muffled hearing. The next he’d be face down in the dirt, a crude, rusted blade pinning him to the blood soaked dirt through his chest. He would stare lifelessly at Warriors, mouth open to gasp, but no sound would reach Warriors’ ears. 

The Captain would blink, and Wind would be fine, blowing a little too hard on the soup in his spoon and sending most of it splashing back into his bowl. 

Warriors’ hands were stained with blood. The thick, warm liquid soaked into his calloused palms and the rough grain of the wooden bowl in his lap. He was afraid to look down, to see if blood swirled in his soup and dripped from his fingers. Or to look and see his hands dry of anything but dirt and sweat, to see that it was all in his head. 

He wasn’t sure which he was more afraid of. 

“You could at least act like you appreciated ‘Rule’s cooking,” a venomous voice bit from across camp, and Warriors couldn’t help but jump. 

He only passively watched as Legend stormed over to him, ripping the bowl from his hands. He gave no resistance, staring down at his empty, dry hands as they began to softly shake. 

He was going crazy, wasn’t he? He was seeing things that weren’t there, letting the nightmares of his childhood shake him to the core as an adult. He’d heard stories of other knights snapping, losing control of their own minds and living in a state of constant fear of a war long since gone. 

Had he snapped? Had the horrors of the battlefield finally rotten his mind to the point where he could no longer tell reality from illusion? 

The Veteran angrily shoved a spoonful of the cold soup into his mouth, reclaiming his spot next to Hyrule and making an obvious effort to burn holes into Warriors’ skull with his glare alone. Sighing and placing a hand on Legend’s shoulder, Hyrule tried his best not to look upset, and to plaster a smile on his lips. 

His eyes held nothing but concern, however. “Are you feeling okay, Captain? You still look a little pale.” 

Four raised an eyebrow, handing his empty bowl to Wild as the Champion collected the remains of their dinner. “Still? Was he not feeling well earlier?” 

“He seemed fine while we were sparring,” Wild muttered, stacking Four’s bowl on top of the tower forming in his arms. 

“He was really out of it during his spar with Wind.” Twilight stood, helping to catch the teetering bowl tower before it could spill from Wild’s hold. “And he's probably still not feeling great, so don’t antagonize him, _Legend_.”

Legend scoffed, jabbing his spoon into the soup like a knife. “Please, he went into a state of shock because Wind beat him. The Sailor cheated and hurt War’s pride, he just needs to get over it.”

“You weren’t even there,” Twilight retorted. “You didn’t see how—” 

“I saw how dazed he looked when we found him—” Legend pointed his spoon toward Hyrule, flicking soup onto the ground “—and how ‘Rule didn’t find anything wrong with him. If it was anything serious I’m sure the soldier would speak up.” 

Warriors’ didn’t notice the silence that followed Legend’s words until a hand bumped against his shoulder, causing him to nearly jump from his seat. Everyone around the fire stared at him, half in expectation, half in concern. Only the crackle of the slowly shrinking fire echoed through the night, ringing hollow in Warriors’ ears. 

Sky’s hand squeezed his shoulder, the Chosen Hero staring over at Warriors in much the same way a worried mother would her child. He was frowning, his brow furrowed in worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Swallowing the dry, scratching discomfort in his throat, Warriors still couldn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded stiffly, trying his best to plaster on a reassuring smile, though it only made Sky’s frown deepen, and the hand on his shoulder tighten. 

“Are you sure?” 

Warriors drew a deep breath, nodding his head once more as he clenched his hands even tighter in his lap. “I— I’m okay.” 

The droning chirps and howls of night bounced through Warriors’ head, bleeding into the rolling thunder shaking through his thoughts. The other heroes exchanged many quick glances between themselves, unsure of exactly what to do. Warriors had never looked so ... frail. 

With a deep, long sigh, Twilight handed the bowls he’d taken from Wild over to Four. He grabbed onto Warriors’ arm without a sound, pulling him up and away from a startled Sky. “I’m gonna take him for a walk.” 

“I don’t think the Captain’s in a fit state to be going on midnight strolls, Pup.” 

Twilight shrugged Time off, continuing to lead Warriors away from camp. “I’ll carry him if it comes to it,” he called over his shoulder to the unmoving camp, not even turning his head to look back. 

No objections were raised by the camp as Warriors was led into the dense forest. He followed without complaint, too caught up in the storm that swirled in his mind to really care. 

The thrashing waves melted into thick undergrowth, into the long roots that snaked around the muddy forest floor. They wrapped around the mossy rocks and choked out the small plants, waiting in hiding to trip up the two wandering heroes. 

The flashes of lightning stopped altogether, plunging the woods into an infinite darkness, only broken by the sea of stars above. 

Neither hero spoke, even if they were practically drowning in unspoken words. Though Warriors doubted he could’ve held a conversation, so the silence proved to be more of a blessing than a curse. In the silence his mind was allowed to wash away the thick blood that coated his vision, giving him a moment to finally take in the tranquility of night. 

After what had seemed like an eternity, Twilight finally came to an abrupt stop. If his hand hadn’t been gripped tightly around Warriors’ arm, there was no doubt the Captain would’ve crashed right into Twilight’s back. He was still uneasy, but the screeching storm of his nightmare had faded significantly. 

Twilight gently pushed Warriors down to sit, backing off the moment the Captain pushed his hand away. He finished lowering himself to the ground without aid, albeit a bit shakily. 

“I can sit down myself,” he huffed quietly.

Twilight snorted, bumping Warriors’ arm with his own as he sat next to him in the dirt. “Weren’t you just complaining about your oldman knees a few days ago?” 

“I’m three years older than you, don’t compare me to the Oldman.” 

“Then stop complaining about your aching joints like you’re seventy.” 

The tension that had surrounded Warriors shattered with a single, exasperated sigh. “Youth these days, no respect for their elders.” 

Twilight groaned, shoving Warriors aside while he tried to hide his smile. “I take it back, I don’t think I can handle more than one Oldman.” 

“As if you don’t already put up with Sky. He’s the closest thing we have to a second grandpa, afterall.” 

Twilight bit back a laugh, “He’s more of a team grandma than anything.” 

“Aren’t grandmas good at baking though? Cause need I not remind you of what happened last time Wild asked for Sky’s help baking.” 

An angry musician, the charred remains of a cutting board, and a flock of angry cuccos. They had all agreed never to discuss it again, if only to save Sky the embarrassment. 

Stray stars peeked through the rustling leaves that formed a ceiling over the two heroes, who had fallen into a much more comfortable silence. The bushes shook and rattled around them, filled with the chirps and squeaks of night. 

Normally, Warriors would’ve been on guard, his hand on his blade and his attention trained on the disjointed cries of the forest. At that moment, however, he wasn’t. In that moment he was sitting next to Twi, his sword forgotten at camp and his eyes fixated on the endless sky above. 

Twilight broke the silence with a sigh, tucking one of his knees against his chest as he leaned forward. “Are you feeling a bit better?” 

“Yeah, a little. Thanks.” Warriors smiled, before leaning back into the dirt and letting the stars completely engulf his vision. 

“...Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

Warriors doubted he could even find the words to. 

Twilight pulled against the back of his hair before tangling his fingers into the dark locks. He sighed, “I— look, I know that you don’t like talking about your time in the war, and I’m not asking you to. It’s just, if keeping it in is hurting you, you need to talk to someone about it.” 

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the war.” 

Twilight seemed to ponder his words for a moment, rubbing his hand on his neck hair. That was something Warriors always noticed that the farmhand did when he was nervous or uncomfortable, he would mess with his hair. Always running his hands through it, or tugging on stray strands. 

Warriors wondered if it was a habit picked up from his adventures. 

“...Well, you can always talk about it if you need to. We— _I_ won’t think any less of you for it.”

Warriors laughed softly, though it came out as more of an amused huff. “I appreciate it.” 

Twilight said nothing, silently leaning back to join Warriors’ on the forest floor. He folded his hands over his chest, knitting his fingers together. 

“You could have stepped away from camp during dinner if you weren’t feeling well,” he eventually said in a hush. “No one would have judged you, not even Legend.”

“I know.” 

“...So why didn’t you?”

Warriors sighed loudly, disturbing whatever creatures had been rustling in the bushes. Little paws scurried away from the two heroes, likely searching for somewhere more peaceful for the night. 

The Captain hadn’t realized how quietly they’d been talking up until then, their voices just above a whisper. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt wrong to disrupt the night with his problems. 

“It’s complicated.” 

Frowning, Twilight tilted his head to the side to stare at Warriors. “Well, Wind says he’s sorry.” 

“He has nothing to apologize for,” Warriors scoffed, refusing to meet Twilight’s eyes. “What happened earlier wasn’t his fault.”

Twilight pursed his lips. “But he has something to do with it, right?” 

Warriors paused, opening his mouth to ask why Twilight would think that. Yet he hesitated, his words in his throat as his teeth clicked together, his lips pursed. He’d made it fairly obvious, hadn’t he? He hadn’t stopped staring at Wind from the moment the Sailor had rejoined them all at camp. 

Despite the answer being fairly obvious to the both of them, Warriors remained silent. How could he explain what was going on in his mind? How could he even _suggest_ that his childhood fears were ripping apart his reality and tearing into Wind? 

Especially when it was over something as silly as pirates. 

“Look—” Twilight pushed himself back up to sit, wrapping an arm around his knees as he pulled them to his chest “—we can’t help avoid something like this in the future if you don’t tell us the issue. If something Wind did sparked all of this then—” 

“He didn’t do anything,” Warriors bit back, throwing an arm over his eyes with a huff. He knew he was acting childish, but he blamed it on the fear still gnawing at the back of his mind. “I’m just paranoid.” 

Warriors couldn’t help but wonder how long they’d been gone for, his sense of time long since skewed by his nightmares. Even though his thoughts had settled, he wasn’t sure if they had been talking for a few minutes, or close to an hour. 

How far were they from camp? He realized in shock that he hadn’t paid attention to the path they took. The forest around them looked no different than any other forest, with no discernible landmark to base their direction on. 

He should’ve paid at least a little attention while he had still been battling the image of his nightmare, but of course, hindsight’s twenty-twenty. 

Twilight stared at him, before slowly nodding. “No, I ... I think I can relate to that.” 

At that, the pit in Warriors’ gut sunk. He sat up, almost too quickly to brush it off. “Related to what?” 

“Being paranoid.” 

The tense fear in Warriors’ heart relaxed as he relaxed, disappearing as he moved to lie back into the dirt. He doubted Twilight had death carved into his mind like Warriors, but he was glad that small _‘maybe’_ had been stamped out. 

The idea that another hero could relate to his reality bending nightmares ... that scared him more than anything, certainly more than the sneering faces that greeted him each time he shut his eyes. The idea that he wasn’t alone in his struggles with nightmares, that someone else had to endure the pain he went through, both in his dreams, and in his waking life too. 

Thank the goddesses that they’d spared Twilight of that burden. 

Seeing Warriors’ silence as an invitation to continue, Twilight did. “I mean, I worry about all of you constantly. One day I won’t be fast enough, or focused enough, and someone could get hurt because of that. I know that everyone here is an experienced hero, and that they’re more than capable of tending to themselves, but that doesn’t mean I can’t worry.” 

Warriors stared at the side of Twilight’s face, just watching as the other hero gazed at the sky with a melancholic expression. A soft smile sat on his lips, yet his eyes carried the sorrow of love and loss. 

As soon as Twilight’s sad eyes glanced his way, Warriors quickly redirected his attention to the sky. 

“...Sorry,” Twilight sighed. “I don’t know if that’s what you meant by being paranoid. I didn’t mean to just—” 

“No,” Warriors cut in hastily, not wanting Twilight to stop talking. “Keep going.” 

Twilight stared at him for a moment, before hesitantly nodding. “Well, sometimes I get my past and present mixed up. Sometimes it’s not a big deal, like when I confuse someone we pass by for a childhood friend, or think that I see her...” 

He trailed off, not elaborating on who exactly this ‘her’ he was talking about was, but Warriors didn’t expect him to. Twilight was not what Warriors would consider shy about his emotions. Granted, he wasn’t the most vocal about them either, but he voiced his concerns and thoughts frequently. 

But just like the others, he had secrets, adventures that would never see the light of day. And just like the others, he was never expected to reveal those. 

“But sometimes it’s terrifying,” Twilight began again, much softer and quieter than before. “I see the past repeating around me, and I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m scared that one day I’ll come back to camp to find everyone missing, stolen away while I couldn’t do anything to help. I’m scared that Wild will hit his head too hard one day, and that his eyes will lack the spark of familiarity when they open. And Time...” 

He sighed, still fidgeting with his hair. “I know these are irrational thoughts, but they feel real enough to shake me to the core.” 

Warriors couldn’t help but feel a little relieved at Twilight’s words. Maybe ... maybe that was what he was dealing with. His fear of losing the others the same way he lost all his soldiers was just twisting with his memories. His stupid, childish nightmare was just coming to light because of paranoia. 

“I— yeah, I feel the same,” Warriors sat up, crossing his legs under him. “My fears from the war are just ... leaking through to the present, I think.” 

Yeah, that had to be it. 

Twilight reached over, wrapping an arm around Warriors’ shoulders silently. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” 

“No I...” Warriors sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the stars. “Just— how do you manage it? How do you keep so composed?” 

It took him a moment to answer, but when he did, his voice was louder, enough so to scare any bugs and keese away. “I have to remind myself that the others are competent heroes, and even if the past repeats itself, they’re strong.” 

He lifted the arm around Warriors’ shoulders enough to mess with the Captain’s hair, who jerked out of Twilight’s hold with an offended gasp. “Wind is more than capable of keeping himself safe, you’ve just got to remind yourself that he’s strong.” 

Warriors rose both his hands to block his hair before Twilight could mess with it again, brushing it back into place slowly. “I know that.” 

“Then tell _him_ that.” 

“He knows already,” Warriors hesitantly sat back up when Twilight made no further movements to mess with his hair. 

Twilight rose from the dirt, brushing himself off before extending a hand to Warriors. “Just ... talk to Wind when we get back. It’ll be good for both of you.” 

In place of an answer, Warriors smiled, taking Twilight’s hand and pulling himself to his feet. “Lead the way, goat boy.” 

He followed behind Twilight silently, ignoring the still concerned glances constantly thrown his way during their short walk back. 

* * *

Legend paced back and forth near the front of their temporary camp, shooting quick looks to the forest where Sky and Hyrule had disappeared to just minutes prior. The other heroes stood in varying degrees of preparation, baldrics around hips, bows strung, and armor fully secured. 

In Legend’s case, he had his firerod gripped in his hand and dangling at his side. The crimson orb scorched a path where it drug across the ground, tracing Legend’s impatient and worried pacing. 

Not that Warriors blamed him. There had been a sense of unease over the group since they’d first shifted worlds, one that hadn’t disappeared in the full week they spent clueless about where they were. Having both Sky and Hyrule separated from the group certainly didn’t help to ease that feeling in the slightest. 

The half-filled bottles of potion sat next to Warriors like an omen of what was yet to come, the red liquid glistening in the harsh midday sun. The small corks were dry, almost crumbling apart, and Warriors could only wonder when the last time they had bought potions was. 

They weren’t prepared, they weren’t fully stocked up. Whatever awaited them in that forest most certainly would hold an advantage. Even if whatever they faced happened to be something weak, something sick, nine uneasy heroes never boded well for any sort of fight. 

Warriors stretched his arms over his head, casting one last glance to the innocent potions beside him. Maybe he was just paranoid, finding all the small things that could go wrong and not focusing on the positives. 

...Alright. He was positive that they would be buying more potions in the near future. 

He sighed, pushing himself off the half rotten log he had repurposed into a makeshift bench. It’d been a long week. He’d spent nearly all of it struggling to decipher his increasingly vivid nightmares, and the rest calming himself and the others after ending up in yet another unknown land. 

No matter how far they seemed to travel, they still had yet to encounter any towns or people. Twilight _swore_ the woods felt familiar, but there was no way of possibly knowing for certain without any notable landmarks—of which they’d found none. 

Even though his mind was focused on the unknown battle that awaited, Warriors still couldn’t help but shoot glances toward where Wind sat. The Sailor looked tense, fiddling with the shield on his back with a distant, troubled expression. It made Warriors feel a bit guilty, knowing he was partly responsible for Wind’s anxiety. 

At Twilight’s request, Warriors had pulled Wind aside after returning to the camp all those nights ago. It wasn’t what Warriors would call a _proper_ heart-to-heart conversation like what Twilight was hoping for, but it was a conversation nonetheless. 

Few words were exchanged, and Warriors had found himself unable to meet Wind’s eyes the entire time. He’d done his best to make sure Wind knew what had happened during their spar wasn’t any of his fault. 

It was blatantly obvious that Wind hadn’t believed him, but the Sailor hadn’t pressed the issue any further. Whether that be in part due to how shaken Warriors had still looked or not. The Captain had been glad for Wind’s acceptance of his half-assed lies at the time, as reluctant as Wind’s acceptance was. Though, he had begun to regret not telling Wind more in the moment. 

If he’d just opened up a little more, really pushed the idea that what happened was by no means a fault of Wind’s, maybe things wouldn’t have grown so tense between them. The two heroes—who bantered and chatted with each other whenever possible, who stood by each other’s sides—had rarely interacted since their last spar. 

It was starting to weigh both of them down, Warriors could tell. He just didn’t know what to do, how to make everything go back to how it had been before his nightmare had crept from it’s small corner of his mind and infected every cell in his body. 

“Something’s coming,” Time announced calmly, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. 

The attention of the heroes automatically snapped to the rustling underbrush that Time had noticed just seconds earlier. Two mops of brown hair poked through the thicket, Sky stepping into the isolated camp first, with a worried looking Hyrule just a step behind. At their arrival, Legend’s pacing came to an abrupt stop, the ground beneath his firerod hissing and squealing as the small patches of grass burned and the moisture evaporated. 

Warriors was the first to speak, his hand wrapped in his scarf to hide the nervous twitch of his fingers. “What’d you find?”

“We’re dealing with his monsters,” Sky nodded toward Hyrule, who shrunk under the attention of everyone at camp. “We checked the area for civilians, and Fi confirmed that there’s no one around besides us for miles.” 

“So what’s got them so riled up?” Twilight made his way through the camp, pushing past Wild to get a clear view of the returning heroes. “They’re making enough noise to be heard from halfway across _Wild’s_ Hyrule.” 

“We don’t know,” Sky admitted, drawing attention away from Hyrule, if only for a moment. “But they’re certainly not happy...” 

Taking a deep breath, Hyrule continued where Sky trailed off, “We think some of them might be infected ... and recently too.” 

Warriors froze, taking a moment to swallow the dryness that had coated his throat. “Can they even _be_ recently infected? I had thought they were created with it.” 

“We don’t know what else could have them so agitated, and that’s just our best guess,” Sky shrugged, brushing the bangs from his eyes before setting a hand on the Master Sword. “Only Hylia knows how these beasts truly came to be.” 

“If she knew we wouldn’t be in the mess, would we?” Legend scoffed under his breath. 

It irritated Warriors that they knew so little about what caused the spread of the ‘infection,’ as they had taken to calling it. Be it gods, demons, or Hylia herself, the heroes had no way of knowing just who or _what_ was the catalyst of their adventure. 

“Let’s not get distracted,” Time remained on the edge of camp, keeping his eye on the forest. “We have a fight we need to prepare for.” 

“Can’t we just avoid them?” Four piped up from the back of the camp. “If they’re not hurting anyone, it might be better for us to just avoid the camp. We’re low on potions, and if it’s Hyrule’s monsters we’re dealing with...” 

He didn’t have to finish that thought for Hyrule to shrink back slightly and a collective groan to wash over the camp. They all loved Hyrule, but they weren’t exactly big fans of his land. 

It was true that both Hyrule and Wild lived in very beaten and broken worlds, but Hyrule’s was much rougher, more freshly shattered than Wild’s was. Wild’s Hyrule was a long dead land, filled with nature and recovering life. 

Hyrule’s kingdom was a wasteland, a land clinging to the last threads of life in a violent, raging storm of corruption; it’s people torn apart by nothing but pure, unbridled power. 

And it’s monsters ... by the goddesses, it’s monsters. 

It took all of one trip to Hyrule’s land for Warriors to discover why the Traveler was so skittish and jumpy. He took one look at the monstrosities that Hyrule faced daily during his adventures, and everything he had thought strange about Hyrule before made complete sense. 

He was unpredictable in a spar, always jumping around and falling back. There was no form to his movements to read, and hardly any intention in his strikes, making fights with him come down to pure battles of stamina. Just as Warriors couldn’t read his movements, there was no way for Hyrule’s monsters to, either. 

The Traveler’s tendency to startle at the slightest noise made sense, when—in their fairly short time spent in his land—the heroes seemed to get ambushed every hour or so. He was jumpy, but he needed to be to survive the wasteland he called home. 

To Hyrule, surviving was like second nature. 

The other heroes were not as quick adapting as Hyrule, and the monsters of his land knew that. It seemed like no matter how prepared they were for a fight against ‘Rule’s monsters, they always underestimated just how durable and ruthless they could be.

Out of all the heroes, Warriors had the most respect for their study little Traveler. 

“If we leave the monsters to their own devices it’s inevitable that they’ll cause trouble in this land,” Time’s voice cut through the hesitant camp. He was still leaning against a tree on the edge of camp, staring out into the forest with a completely unreadable expression. “Innocent people could get hurt if we just ‘avoid them.’” 

Four nodded hesitantly, casting worried looks toward their megar potion stash. “Yeah, you’re right. I just hope this doesn’t end poorly for us...”

It took everything in Warriors’ power not to wince at those words. Now that they had been spoken, it was almost guaranteed that something _would_ end poorly. He shook it off before he could let it dig into his unease, he could dwell on old soldier superstitions at a later time. 

Turning attention away from paranoia and back toward strategy, Warriors turned to Hyrule. “What’re we dealing with out there, Traveler?”

Hyrule straightened stiffly as he was addressed, worrying away at his bottom lip before composing himself with a shaky breath. “They— we didn’t get a good look, but there were a lot. It was mostly lizalfos from what we saw, and a whole swarm of girubokku. I couldn’t count how many, but—”

“I’m sorry,” Legend cut in. “Giru- _what_ -nows?” 

Hyrule struggled to find his words, his eyes darting across the camp in search for at least some form of familiarity at the name. When he was met with absolute silence from the others, Warriors could only watch as he seemed to deflate. 

“They’re these big—” he twirled a hand in the air, “—floating eyeball things? They’re not very strong but they push you into corners and off cliffs if they can.” 

“What’s the catch?” Wind’s voice cut through Warriors like a knife, though he did his best to hide it. “There’s always some catch with your monsters ... no offense.” 

Hyrule glanced around at the heroes before nodding his head over to where Twilight and Wild stood. “They’re only vulnerable for a few seconds when they open their eye to survey their surroundings, so it’s best if they’re taken out from a distance.” 

That was manageable, and much more clear-cut than most things from Hyrule’s land. As long as Twilight and Wild focused their attention on the giru-whatevers, then they should be fairly straightforward to take down. 

...He hoped. 

“Is there anything else we need to know about?” Warriors pressed, trying not to come across too harsh, but he really did need to know as much as possible before he felt comfortable guiding the others through a battle. 

“I saw a few daira, and maybe a geru or two...” he trailed off, a serious expression setting across his face. “The daira have thick skin, are fast to charge, but slow at dodging. Staying agile is the best approach, their axes will just slice through any shields...”

He paused, exhaling deeply before continuing, “The orange ones flail their axes and charge, and the red ones like to throw their axes, keeping as much distance between themselves and you. If you close the gap, they’re vulnerable, but you have to stay on your toes.” 

Without pause, Warriors’ mind was a whirlwind of strategy; not very precise of reliable strategy, mind you, but it was strategy regardless. He could never form a perfect strategy without first watching the patterns and habits of the enemy, a luxury he did not have at that moment. 

He just needed to lead, assess, and adjust his plan accordingly. He needed to make sure the others would be safe, that was his mission. 

The girubokku could be handled by Twilight and Wild, Warriors trusted them to handle it on their own. And the others, as long as they heeded Hyrule’s caution, they would be just fine. Though ... someone more suited for distance combat should take on any reds they may encounter—

“What about the geru?” 

Time’s voice snapped Warriors out of his thoughts, and he almost felt embarrassed. He had nearly let Hyrule gloss over something that was essential to ensuring their safety. 

Warriors nearly jumped as he noticed Time staring at him from the corner of his eye. Time didn’t say anything, but his expression spoke for itself. He knew Warriors was out of it, and he was questioning his ability to lead them through battle. 

A weight pushed against Warriors’ gut, but he remained as composed and neutral as he could. His mental hiccups wouldn’t interfere with the safety of the others, he would make sure of it. 

Hyrule shook his head, almost frantically. “I’ll handle the geru, without protective magic I don’t ... I don’t want any of you going after them. They’re too strong—” 

“Then that’s more reason for you to _not_ take them on by yourself.” Warriors sent Time a small nod, just hoping that the Old Man would actually believe, even for a second, that he had things under control. He turned back to Hyrule, “Tell me what I’m dealing with and I can help you with them while the others focus on the lizalfos and daira.”

Time frowned at his words, but remained silent. If anything, Warriors should’ve asked Time to help Hyrule with the geru, considering he had that protective shield crystal or whatever he called it. He knew that Time knew this, if his questioning glances were anything to go by. 

Shoot, even Legend would’ve been better suited to handle the geru, what with his assortment of magical weapons. But Warriors, he could handle himself, he could be the guide they needed. 

He wouldn’t become a liability just because his mind had begun to rot in his skull. 

Hyrule stared at Warriors for a moment, looking ready to argue, yet thinking better of it. He nodded, almost hesitantly, “I don’t want you taking on any blue ones there might be ...” 

“Is there any strategy for taking them down?” 

The others quickly began packing up what little remained of the camp as the conversation shifted to one just between Hyrule and Warriors. Empty bottles were thrown into bags, arrows were split between Wild and Twilight, and Time still didn’t move from his position on the edge of camp. He stared at Hyrule and Warriors in silence, face refusing to betray what he was thinking. 

Hyrule glanced around at the others, the anticipation and pre-battle anxiety almost tangible in the thin air between them all. Sky began leading the way toward the enemy camp before Hyrule could continue, so he resigned himself to following behind. 

“I’ll tell you on the way.” 

Before he could follow the others, Warriors felt something grab him. Time stared at him, his eyebrows raised and his grip tight on Warriors’ wrist. 

“Are you fit for battle, Squire?” 

Warriors pried his arm from Time’s grasp, sending the older hero a curt nod. “Always am.” 

Stepping into the underbrush, he tossed his head over his shoulder to call back to Time, who still stood in the camp, hesitant to follow. 

“And it’s _Captain_.” 

* * *

The crude and chipped trident-like spear screeched across Warriors’ shield, forcing him back a step with a grunt. The wide, dry mouth of the orange scaled geru snapped down toward his sword, tongue lolling out over the geru’s stone-like teeth. It clasped its maw around Warriors’ blade, shaking its head like a dog while it thrust its spear toward Warrior’s shield once more.

He realized in dawning horror that it was trying everything in its power to disarm him. 

Before it's spear could grate against his shield again, Warriors ducked under its reach, ramming his shield upwards at the Geru’s jaw. It screeched, its bite loosening enough from Warriors’ sword for the Captain to swing, cutting into the geru’s gums and extending the size of the geru’s maw. 

Darkness spewed from the wide smile splitting across the geru’s face, pooling out of its gasping mouth as it scrambled back, dropping its shield and spear to crable its slack jaw. 

Warriors didn’t focus much on the wounded monster in front of him, his mind too busy taking in the chaos around him. They were outmatched, he’d realized that fact just seconds after engaging with the enemy. 

The orange geru hissed, reaching out a blackened hand toward its discarded spear, though Warriors didn’t let it ever reclaim it. His blade pierced it’s neck before it could scream, a pained sound gurgling in its throat before its eyes rolled back into its head. It collapsed into a pile of boiling blood and torn limbs, jerking as Warriors ripped his blade from it’s dead form. 

The moment the tip of the blade left the slit in it’s throat, the geru crumbled into itself, rapidly falling apart until all that remained was a black stain in the grass and wisps of ash. 

Warriors’ attention snapped to the others almost immediately, relief flooding his pounding heart after seeing no one was seriously harmed. 

As similar as they looked, the daira were nothing like the hordes of lizalfos they had faced before. They were far too bulky, far too resilient to even consider them to be on par with the lizalfos. 

If fighting a lizalfos was like fighting five men, the daira were equal to ten. 

The geru were much, much worse, but thank the goddesses there were only two. Any more than that, and Warriors doubted they would’ve left that battle with all nine heroes still breathing. 

Every few seconds Warriors would catch a glimpse of Wild and Twilight, darting between cover as arrow after arrow pierced the giant, bloodshot irises of the girubokku. The fleshy, veiny eyeballs swam through the air as if it were water, drifting eerily toward their target before jolting to an unnatural stop. Their long, matted eyelashes flashed open to reveal glaring eyes that darted around, surveying the field before snapping shut. 

It seemed like no matter how many arrows littered the torn eyelids of the girubokku, they refused to fall. Warriors had only seen about half of them disintegrate, and he was worried that Wild and Twilight would run out of arrows before they could deal with the rest. 

They just needed a little more help than Warriors initially assumed. 

Warriors cupped a hand around his mouth, letting his sword sit limp at his side. “Legend! Go help Twi and Wild!” 

The Veteran stood over two rapidly crumbling bodies, the red scales only visible for a few seconds before fading to dust. Legend’s firerod hung at his side, weakly pulsing as the flames surrounding him slowly died down. 

He met Warriors’ eyes, nodding firmly before wiping the soot from his face and sliding his firerod into his belt. Before disappearing from sight, Warriors caught a glimpse of Legend snatching the bow off his back, notching an arrow just as quickly. 

Warriors could only pray that the three of them could manage to take down the rest of the girubokku before they posed too much of an issue. 

Aside from the handful of girubokku that still clogged the skies, the field was still littered with snarling beasts. One of those beasts being the blue geru that Hyrule had driven home time and time again that the other heroes could _not_ take on. 

Warriors could see why. 

The Traveler was locked in an endless dance with the beast. With each swing of the geru’s mace, Hyrule dove to the side, slicing around the geru’s shield and into it’s exposed scales. Each mace thrown was sent bouncing to the ground, a faint glow encasing Hyrule for a split second before disappearing. He and the geru would jump back, assess, and begin the dance again. 

Even from across the field, Warriors could tell that Hyrule had it under control. His magic had yet to flicker with exhaustion, and not a speck of red stained his clothes. The geru stood no chance against Hyrule, who was simply going through the motions that had been ingrained in him. 

Warriors wasn’t worried about the Traveler, not in the slightest. It was Wind and Four’s situation that worried him.

One of the remaining orange daira towered over them, flanked by two weary lizalfos. The two heroes had certainly held their own up until that point, but they had begun to slip. Four was disoriented, blood trickling down the side of his face and encasing his entire left eye. Wind was trying his best to compensate for Four’s loss of sight, but he was struggling. 

After ensuring that none of the others were in mortal danger, Warriors rushed to their aid. He kept his eyes on Four, not letting himself falter, not letting himself look over to Wind. He could let himself be sucked into the endless pit of his nightmares. 

Yet no matter how fast he ran, no matter how much he _focused_ , he wasn’t fast enough. 

As if it were some sort of twisted ringleader, the daira nodded it’s head toward Four. The two lizalfos beside it perked up, letting loose two disjointed screams as they rushed forward. Their movements were sluggish, enough so that Four was easily able to side-step one of the lizalfo’s swords. 

The second lizalfos found itself thrown on it’s back as Wind rammed the hilt of his sword into its exposed gut. It screeched, silenced as Wind jabbed his sword through its neck. His sword sat embedded in the decaying lizalfos and the dirt beneath it. 

When Warriors got close enough, the remaining lizalfos seemed to change it’s demeanor, rushing past Four and slamming its body against Warriors. He stumbled back, pushing the lizalfos away with his shield as he tried to look past it to where Wind and Four stood. 

Four had turned to stare at Warriors and the lizalfos, frantically wiping the blood from his vision as he ran over to help. Wind kept glancing between his sword, the daira, and the last lizalfos, trying to rip his sword from the dirt. 

The lizalfos hit the dirt within a second, a long, deep cut running along its stomach. Red seeped into the dirt beneath it, it’s raspy cries silenced by the thundering of Warriors’ heart in his chest. 

It was when they were distracted that the daira rushed forward. 

Four didn’t see it, he didn’t see the axe swinging down toward him. He didn’t see Wind jumping forward, mouth open in a silent yell.

He only looked over as Wind’s hands pushed him aside. Four stumbled forward, face warped in the same horror that twisted in Warriors’ gut. Wind’s sword sat in the dirt, discarded. 

And an axe sat embedded in his middle. 

Four was quick to act, pivoting his weight as he stumbled, ramming his sword into the side of the daira’s long, twisted maw. Jerking back with a roar, the daira ripped the axe from Wind, sending the Sailor crashing down to the dirt as it struggled to push back against Four’s onslaught. 

Yet Warriors’ world froze at the first sight of blood seeping through Wind’s tunic. A growing static filled Warriors’ ears, replacing the sounds of the battle and engulfing him in the darkness of a raging storm. The ground around him shattered around his feet, the wooden deck clawing its way up from the depths of his nightmares. A small section of grass and dirt sat directly under his feet, untouched by the nightmare and illuminated in the same midday sun the rest of his world had been not moments prior.

He stood in a spotlight, his mind waging a war outside the small bubble of reality he so desperately clung to. 

Roaring waves crashed against the red stained deck, rocking it back and forth with a force that challenged even the strength of the gods. Lighting struck down over Warriors’ head, the scream of the storm piercing through the static in his mind. 

A machete pinned Wind to the deck, standing like a beacon in his chest as the vague forms of the pirates shifted in and out of Warrior’s thoughts. The shadowy forms grabbed Wind’s arms, pulling him from the deck like a limp doll and ripping the blade from his hollow chest. 

Water poured from his wounds, washing away the blood of the deck and dripping between the wooden planks. There was no blood on the slack form of Wind, just cold, wet clothes and a hollow, inky tear. 

And Warriors could do nothing but stare. 

He was only vaguely aware of movement from behind him, could just barely make out the shouting voices that rang through the storm. He hadn’t even realized he had sat down, his fingers brushing oh-so-close to the edges of his circle of reality. 

It was tempting, to cross that thin barrier between the fragments of reality he still desperately clung to and embrace his nightmare. If he left his little remaining safety, maybe then he would be able to save Wind from the shadowy grasp that drug him further and further away. 

Yet no matter how much he wanted to shatter through the storm, to rush forward to save his brother, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move, couldn’t open his mouth to speak. He was frozen in place.

There were hands on Warriors’ shoulder, gentle and caring in a way that made the shadows fade away and the reality around him break through the storm. The warmth engulfed the cold ship, replacing it with the silent battlefield. 

“—ptin?” 

Warriors groaned, lurching forward to cup his head in his hands. Blinking away the last of the sudden nightmare, Warriors found himself looking up at a concerned Sky. They stared at each other for a moment, just long enough for the creaking of the ship to leave Warriors’ mind entirely.

“Sorry,” he muttered hoarsely. He began to try to stand, only to be stopped by Sky’s firm grip on his shoulders. 

“Try not to move, you’ll tire yourself out,” Sky’s voice was a concerned hush. It was as if he was speaking to an ill child, phrasing his words gently to ensure that the kid complied. 

Warriors shakily nodded, finding himself too disoriented to argue. He moved his head back to his hands, covering his eyes as best he could. “What about the rest—” 

“Time and the others are dealing with the last lizalfos and girubokku, they’ll be okay.” Sky paused, letting go of Warriors’ shoulders. “And Wind and Four are fine, Hyrule’s tending to them now.”

Taking a shaky breath, Warriors nodded into his hands. He felt like a coward. The sickness that pooled in his throat was only partially due to his nightmare, and it was only made worse by the shame that dug into his heart. 

He was supposed to be someone the others could look to, someone who could lead. How could he be their ‘captain’ when he couldn’t go a single fight without breaking? 

Above him Sky sighed, “Time wanted to talk to you privately when he got back.” 

“...Great.” 

“We’re concerned, War.” Sky sounded tired, more tired than Warriors had ever heard him. It didn’t sit right. Sure, Sky was a notorious napper, but he never sounded that ... drained. “You need to tell us what’s going on so we can help.” 

He tuned the rest of what Sky began to say out, focusing his mind on the rhythm of his own breathing. Didn’t they realize that he _couldn’t_ talk about it? Even if he put his own pride, his own position aside long enough to sit down with someone to talk, what would he say? 

How could he vocalize the terror that crept in his own mind? A terror unprompted by anything more than a childish fear. 

* * *

He heard voices for the first time. Soft, _real_ voices. Ones that struggled to be heard in the scream of the storm, that fought against the waves so as to not drown. Each second he spent blinking the rain and sweat from his eyes, the voices only grew louder, more solid in his mind. 

He was disoriented, too focused on picking apart the dozens of voices that clashed against each other like rusted metal against metal. It was only when a woman’s voice cut through the storm, hissing almost directly next to his ear, that he seemed to find his footing on the storm-ravished deck.

“Get off my ship before I stain the deck with your blood,” her voice practically dripped with venom. 

Warriors found himself gripping the hilt of a sword strapped to his hip, taking a step to stand between the looming figures in front of him and the woman beside him. He ran a thumb down the grip, some vague memory itching at the back of his mind. 

Was that his sword? It had to be, it felt too familiar to be anyone else’s ... right? He— he couldn’t tell. 

The pirates seemed to flood their ship more and more with each passing second, clogging the deck like the rats they were. Their captain stood at the forefront of the infestation, a wide, crooked grin shining in the blinding flashes of lightning. 

They’d been overtaken by the storm before they could even blink, the peaceful waves churning beneath them as the sky ripped open. The pirates had snuck up on them in their disorientation, pinning their ship with ropes and canons. 

The captain of the pirates threw back in head in a guttural laugh, the outline of his sharp features and ratty beard illuminated by a streak of lighting zipping across the darkened sky. His crewmates joined in his laughter, mocking jeers and howls and _spit_ thrown toward where Warriors, the woman, and their small crew stood. 

Twisting a crude, unpolished machete in his hands, the captain leaned forward, eyes fixed on the woman. Warriors swore he could feel the man’s breath on his face, his muscles tightening and telling him to _fight_ to _run_ to _protect_. Against his every screaming instinct, he remained motionless. 

The captain tilted his head over his shoulder, never breaking eye contact with the woman as his voice boomed through the storm, “Did you hear that, boys? The little princess doesn’t want us on her boat!” 

The ratty crew erupted into a new round of laughter, one that the storm drowned out with a single, deafening boom. It shook the very air, rocking the two tethered boats wildly. 

Ripping a scimitar from her sheath, the woman at Warriors’ side growled, slamming a foot down as she fell back into an overly aggressive stance. Warriors threw out an arm to push her back before she could do anything reckless, her entire upper body pushing against him as she leaned forward to shout at the pirates. 

“What in the Great Sea do you _bastards_ want with us?” She spat out ‘bastards’ with as much disgust as possible, sending a shiver down Warriors’ spine. 

The captain chuckled hoarsely, “Do we need a reason for stealing your ship?” 

“I’d fucking like one,” the woman hissed, ramming her elbow into Warriors’ arm and pushing her way to stand face-to-face with the captain. 

Both the sea of pirates and the woman beside Warriors only seemed to grow more and more eager to spill blood as the seconds passed by. As willing as Warriors was to fend off a crew of pirates, a sinking feeling in his gut told him that it wouldn’t be a fight he would win. 

They were outmatched, and everyone on the ship knew it. 

“Well, let’s just say this is our...” The captain trailed off, twirling the machete in his hand in search of the word, “compensation.” 

The woman barked out a hollow, dry laugh. “We don’t owe you jack-shit.” 

The pirates grew restless at her words, their jeers turning into full on shouting. The woman’s meager crew stepped forward, pushing both her and Warriors back by a small amount as they anxiously clutched their weapons. Warriors could tell that if the situation wasn’t deescalated _quickly_ then blood would be spilled and bodies would drown. 

With a deep laugh the captain spat onto the deck, the yellow glob melting away into the torrent of rain within seconds. “You owe us more than you can afford to pay, _princess_.” 

“Strange you say that,” the woman hissed through clenched teeth, “because I think I’d remember seeing a face as ugly as yours before, and I don’t make a habit of owing things to people I’ve never met.”

Warriors tightened his grip on his sword. The captain seemed to tower over the woman and her crew more so than before, his grin morphing into pure anger. Warriors was used to feeling small and weak, standing against towering titans with strength ten times his own. 

It was that feeling—the feeling of hopelessness, of being so unbelievably _small_ —that suffocated him when he was but a child. He remembered clutching a heavy sword and trying not to shake as the last gerudo glared down at him, that feeling coursing through his every vein. It was that feeling that drove him to pierce that man’s skull with the blade that sung warm songs in his hands, and to leave them both miles under the sea.

And it was that feeling that pooled in his gut during that goddess damned storm, screaming at him to grab the woman beside him and run for the nearest lifeboat. He was brave, but he knew when he was in over his head.

By Zephos, was he in over his head. 

“You bitch,” the Captain sneered, reaching forward to grab the woman before Warriors grabbed the man’s hand. They held eye contact for a moment, before the captain snarled, ripping his fist from Warriors’ hold and jabbing a finger at the woman. “Your little ‘New Hyrule’ stunt took the sea from _all_ us pirates, and yet you have the rotten guts to call yourself one.” 

The woman’s knuckles were stained white around the hilt of her scimitar, her face bright red in the brief flashes of light the storm granted. “You fucking _dog_! I haven’t even touched the Great Sea, I have not taken your right to sail. I know my place in the new kingdom, unlike filth like you.” 

“Tell that to your kingdom ‘army!’” The captain shouted over the crack of lighting, the rest of his crew falling silent. “They parade around in their dainty rafts and drive us from the very waters we live in!” 

The woman scoffed, pushing her crewmates back behind her and Warriors. “I’m not wasting my time with you scum. Go back to your ship and terrorize someone else, I’ll take care of my army myself.” 

The thin thread of patience that strung across the deck snapped, and in a flash countless swords and knives found themselves pointed at the woman’s crew. She froze, raising her scimitar as she grit her teeth, trying to hide the fact that the blood had drained from her face. 

Warriors’ shifted his weight, settling into a more natural battle stance as he finally unsheathed his sword, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet in bottled up fear and anticipation. He would need to be quick, a distraction. 

If he couldn’t make it out, he was going to make sure the others could. 

The captain’s movements were sluggish, enough so that it was easy for the woman to sidestep the predictable swing of his machete and for Warriors to deflect it with his own blade. Metal grated against metal, and if it hadn’t been pouring Warriors would’ve expected to see sparks. As sluggish as he was, the captain had strength behind his swings. It sent Warriors staggering back a step, his shoulder bumping against the woman’s. 

“Got your lap dog standing up for you now?” The captain hissed, yet he made no further move to attack. “You’ll give any runt that’ll bow before you the title of ‘hero,’ won’t you?” 

The word ‘hero’ rang in Warriors’ ears. It sat wrong on his tongue, souring any retorts he could muster. Even though he wanted to bite back, to curse out the captain, he kept his lips sealed. Things were too tense for throwing pointless insults, no matter how much Warriors wanted to call the captain’s mother a ‘foul strumpet not even Cyclos would humor.’ 

“Leave him out of this,” the woman nudged Warriors with her shoulder, pushing him a step away from her. “This is between you and me.” 

The captain’s glare snapped back into his wide, unsettling grin before Warriors could even blink. It sent a shiver down his spine, seeing how ... _unnaturally_ the captain flickered between facades. His emotions were on a hair trigger, and the woman seemed to be pulling it all too frequently. 

“Oh? _Now_ you want to reason with me? When the life of your hero is on the line?” 

The woman scoffed, “You wouldn’t stand a chance against him.” 

The captain _beamed_ , shifting his attention fully onto Warriors, sizing him up. “Should we test that theory?” 

Dread twisted his gut as Warriors forced a cocky smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the woman pushing his sword down. It was a good thing she did, because his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, and he doubted he could form words without his voice cracking in poorly hidden fear. 

“Full claim to the Southern Sea,” she blurted, eyes darting between the captain’s raised machete and his riled crew. “I can grant you and your crew full ownership of the Southern Sea.” 

Her shift in demeanor threw Warriors off, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the captain, either. He laughed, a quieter, more human laugh than anything he had barked out before. 

Though it carried more malice than anything Warriors had heard in a long, long time. 

“Ah, he’s not just some pawn in your kingdom to you,” the captain lowered his machete, his crew following suit slowly. He nodded his head over to the rest of the woman’s crew, one of them jumping at the attention. “You see that? Your captain values the life of her little ‘hero’ more than she values any of yours.” 

Despite how he had flinched under the captain’s sight, the shortest of the crew had the guts to bark out a weak laugh. “You’re trying to get us to turn on her, right?” He pushed back the blue bandana that had begun to slide down his face, leaving his hair slicked back in an odd angle. “But ya see, we’re more loyal to her than you can even imagine. ‘Sides, she’s allowed to be a bit protective of her betrothed id—” 

“Niko!” The woman hissed, whipping her head around to stare wide-eyed at the short man. 

Realizing what he had just said, Niko’s face paled. He stared up at the captain, lips pursed as the towering man stared at Warriors and the woman, his face frozen in a crooked grin. 

“Full claim to the Southern Sea, you say? And in exchange, you want me to leave you and your little ship alone, right?” 

The woman turned back to face the captain, her stance relaxing by a hair amount. “Leave us and you will get your sea, I swear on the old king himself.” 

The tension between the two groups was nearly tearing Warriors apart. No one was moving, no one was acting. It was static, and it was almost worse than a flat out fight. 

Smiling from ear to ear, the captain eventually tilted his head over his shoulder, letting his weapon drop to his side completely. “Put down your swords you disgusting animals,” he hissed at his crew, yet his smile did not leave his face. “This is between me and the princess.” 

His crew stepped back, and he stepped forward, extending a hand toward the woman. She hesitated, glancing between the captain’s hand and Warriors, as if asking for his advice. So as subtly as he could he shook his head. 

Something was off, something didn’t feel right. The last thing he wanted was for the woman to shake that man’s hand. 

The woman seemed to ignore Warriors’ discomfort, and she lifted her chin to meet the captain’s eyes. “Then it’s a deal.” 

“Don’t want to shake on it?” 

The woman pursed her lips, standing her ground. “It’s foolish to trust a pirate—”

“But even more foolish to betray one,” the captain finished. He let his hand drop to his side. 

Hidden in the rain, behind the captain’s thick coat and the veil of the storm, the captain clenched his fist. And Warriors noticed. He noticed the way the captain’s arm tensed, as if preparing to throw a swing. He noticed the grin curl upward on the captain’s face, his scraggly beard doing nothing to hide the venom in his features. 

Never trust a pirate, especially if they had you outnumbered. 

“Nudge, take her to the lifeboat and run.” 

The voice that slipped from Warriors’ lips was not his. It sat wrong in his mouth, feeling as if it didn’t belong. And yet ... it rang so familiar in his ears that it might as well have been. 

“What was that, _hero_?” The captain spat through his grin, his stance changing. 

“Nudge,” the voice that did not belong echoed across the ship. No one moved aside from the woman, who turned to stare at Warriors in either horror and anger. 

If he had to guess, it was most likely a combination of the two. 

Before the captain could react, before anyone could raise any objection, one of the burly men on the woman’s crew rushed forward. He grabbed onto the woman, swinging her over one of his shoulders before grabbing on to Niko. 

“What’re you—” the woman shrieked, kicking and flailing as she tried desperately to free herself from her crewmate’s hold. “Put me down!” 

The rest of the crew was quick to react, pushing each other forward as they made a mad dash for the lifeboats just a few paces away. A few of them tried to grab Warriors, to drag him along as they fled. He held his ground, however, gripping his sword as tightly as possible as he stared up at the captain. 

“Your move,” he hissed at the captain.

“Oh? Defying your princess and ruining our deal?” The captain practically had to yell over his shouting crew. “Not very heroic of you, is it?” 

“Fuck off,” Warriors bit back. “You must take me for an idiot if you think for one _second_ that I believed you would leave us peacefully.” 

“Your princess seemed to believe it.” 

The storm continued to rock the ship under the crew’s feet as they rushed toward the edge of the ship and away from the pirates. The woman thrashed around, ramming the hilt of her blade against Nudge’s shoulder. The pirates gripped their weapons with a renewed vigor, eagerly bouncing from foot to foot as they waited for the captain to let them tear the crew apart. 

Because Warriors knew, they would _tear_ the woman and her crew apart. 

“Link, you bastard!” The woman screamed, throwing her entire weight forward in a last ditch effort to get Nudge to release his hold. “Don’t play hero! Don’t fucking do this!” 

Gritting his teeth, Warriors refused to look back at the screaming woman. He just had to buy them time to get to the lifeboat, he just had to stall long enough for them to get to safety. Only then could he follow, only then could he dive off the side of the ship and join them in the dinky, crumbling lifeboat. 

The captain laughed, “Running away, are we? Letting your hero take the fall while you turn tail like a coward? What ever happened to the Great Pirate Captain Tetra, the one and only daughter to the Terror of the Sea herself?!”

Tetra. 

...He didn’t belong there. 

Warriors’ illusion shattered, and he could no longer feel the rain on his skin, could not taste the bile in the back of his throat. He was trapped in a shell, and no matter how much he tried he could not move. The tongue in his mouth did not obey his wish to scream, for the mouth did not belong to him in the first place. 

None of what he was experiencing belonged to him. Not the sword nor the hands that held it. Not the cracking voice or heavy coat. He wasn’t in a memory, wasn’t trapped within a flashback. He was somewhere else, somewhere that he was never meant to be. 

A few pirates tried to rush forward, blades drawn and eyes hungry for blood, and yet their captain pushed them back. Just as he had done before, the captain raised a hand silently. His crew froze, losing their sudden restlessness and eagerness as their captain shook his head. 

“Leave them.” 

“Are you senile?!” One of his crew members shouted, pushing their way to the front of the others. “We came here to _kill_ the princess, not let her _escape_.” 

The splash of the lifeboat hitting the water was nearly drowned out in the boom of thunder overhead. The woman’s screams became too distant to hear, and their absence sent a strange sense of relief through Warriors. 

Though he knew that it wasn’t _his_ relief. 

“She’ll come crawling back to us in no time, don’t worry,” the captain reassured. “We’ve taken something more precious to her than anything else.” 

He nodded his head toward where Warriors stood. “Grab him.” 

In a flash there were hands on him, ripping ‘his’ blade away and gripping his shoulders tight enough he felt as though they would break. He could do nothing as he began to thrash around, kicking at the figures holding him stationary. 

He spat at the captain, “What is your goal here? Did you really come all this way just to kill the princess?” 

“Of course!” The captain laughed, “Why else would we be here?” 

“Tetra may be a cutthroat pirate, but she’s an honest ruler. She would’ve given you the sea without any blood needing to be spilled.” 

“I don’t make a habit of trusting pirates,” the captain shrugged, his crew snickering behind him. “Especially cornered ones.” 

Warriors could only feel the body that did not belong to him continue to kick and struggle. He did not know why he was forced to sit idly by, forced to experience a horror that was never his to own. The worst part was that he knew what happened next, he knew the _pain_ and _regret_ better than anything else. 

He didn’t even feel the blade pierce his chest, his entire body going completely cold in a flash. Warriors gasped as the captain leaned forward, digging the machete deeper into his chest. He was expecting the rush of excruciating pain, the metal grating against his ribcage and the desperate battle for air. When that rush never came, when all he could feel was the dull throb of his heart, Warriors felt as if he was in a different dream altogether. 

He was too numb, too detached from the scene bleeding itself into his chest. Something about the surrealness, the stillness of the moment, something about it chilled Warriors to the bone, more than pain ever could. 

“You know,” the captain grabbed onto Warriors’ shoulders with his freehand, pushing the blade deeper with his other, “I never was a fan of weddings. Though, it is too bad that yours was cancelled.”

Lightning cracked down through the sky as the blade ripped from Warriors’ chest. His eyes shot open. He jerked upright with a silent scream, hands free from the grasp of pirates as he clawed at his shirt with the desperation of a dying soldier. 

His chest heaved as he stared down at his chest, and the old, faded scars of war stared back. There was no blood, no sword, no rain, and no pirates. He was sitting on the edge of camp, staring with the wide-eyed gaze of a maniac at wounds that had never existed in the first place. 

With a shaky sigh he collapsed back, running an unsteady, freezing hand through his sweat soaked hair. His heart still continued to hammer in his chest, the frantic rhythm doing little to ease the panic digging into his every breath. 

The taste of blood and the sea still stung his tongue, and he could swear that the forest shook with the echoes of the storm. He ran a hand through the grass, barely registering just how _fake_ it felt under his numb fingers. And yet he dug his nails into the dirt anyway, feeling each and every grain of the damp soil. He had to ground himself, lest the fear consume him. 

He was terrified to close his eyes for even a second, scared that he would plunge back into the horrors of that _memory_. 

Because he knew, he knew that was never his dream. It never belonged to him in the first place. It was a memory, a memory that was not his. 

He was never meant to see any of that. He was a thief. 

It didn’t help that he knew exactly who he’d stolen it from. 

Turning his head to the side so that his cheek pressed into the dirt, Warriors couldn’t pry his eyes off where Wind laid still. His back was pressed against Sky’s side, a blanket pulled up to cover everything from his nose down. There were no pirates looming around his prone form, no blade pinning him to the ground and spilling his blood across the floor. 

And yet Warriors had never felt more sick in his entire life, staring in horror at the little sailor whose death had tormented Warriors from the time he could talk. 

He didn’t sleep that night. 

* * *

The inactivity had been eating away at Warriors for weeks, but he was almost certain he was about to boil over with impatience. He’d known even before talking with Time that the oldest hero wasn’t mad about his ... breakdown in the forest. The Oldman was more worried than anything, which had been understandable. 

And so he’d banned Warriors from even raising so much as a hand to help the others. It didn’t exactly sit well with the Captain. 

For weeks all he could do was sit in camp and play ‘maid.’ He washed sheets and clothes, helped Wild with the little cooking that the Champion allowed, and even resorted to attempting woodcarving under Sky’s instruction. 

And yet for all he did to fill the silence, to fill the boredom and embarrassment and _guilt_ that ate away at him, Warriors’ efforts did little to help his situation with the Sailor. The same Sailor who’s stomach still hadn’t healed, and who had _also_ been restricted to camp until further notice. 

Yet, as hard as it was for Warriors to meet Wind’s eyes, to even muster the courage to speak to him, their time alone had proven to be some twisted blessing in disguise. Being able to see Wind, to see that he was _fine_ , something about it gave Warriors an odd sense of comfort. He knew that watching Wind would do little to ease the memory plaguing his thoughts, but he couldn’t help it. There was an irrational fear burning him up from the inside out, a fear that he’d turn away from Wind, and be greeted with a corpse when he turned back. 

As much as he wanted to doubt it, to find some reason to believe it to be false, Warriors knew that his ‘nightmare’ was the dying memories of Wind. But the question was _why_?

Why would the goddesses force such a curse onto him? Why would they scar a child’s life with a memory that didn’t belong to him? And what was Warriors even supposed to _do_ with Wind’s memory? Did the goddesses want him to prevent it? To warn the Sailor? 

Or was the death of his own brother meant to rest in his mind a sour his every thought? 

“You’re staring again,” Wind’s voice snapped Warriors from his thoughts, sending him into a violent and sudden nausea. 

He swallowed the pang of fear that came with hearing Wind speak, tried to stomach the fact that everything about the Sailor seemed tainted in his mind. His wide, childish eyes resembling something more hollow, more pained; his voice, which once was bubbly and light—like the sun on a warm summer’s day—now rang out hoarse and cold. 

Everything about Wind was bathed in invisible blood, and Warriors hated every second of it. 

“Sorry,” Warriors muttered, tearing his eyes off Wind to stare at the sand beneath his feet. He absently reached for the waterskin beside him, tossing it aside in irritation after finding it empty. 

Goddesses above, he hated the desert, especially Twi’s desert. Sure, Wild’s desert was big, and had some of the most two-faced temperature changes that Warriors had ever experienced, but at least there were places to rest. There were oases, caves, ruins; shoot, there was even a town they would’ve been able to enter if only they’d been women. 

Twilight’s gerudo desert was just empty. And unless they wanted to storm and clear out a literal fortress of bulbins, or bunker down in a burial ground infected with poes and ghost bugs, then the heroes had nowhere to camp peacefully. Meaning that Wind and Warriors’ only guard between themselves and the sand were two thin sheets. 

They weren’t exactly comfortable. 

Wind sighed loudly, throwing an arm over his eyes. “When are the others going to be back? It’s been hours.” 

“Don’t ask me,” Warriors shrugged, cupping sand into his hand and letting it slowly drain through his fingers. “The others don’t tell me anything anymore.” 

“That’s kinda your fault though, yeah?” 

Warriors snorted, yet it carried no humor. He shot a glance to where Wind laid, before staring back down at his hands again. “I don’t think I can control my flashbacks, Sailor.” 

“Of course not, don’t twist my words,” Wind huffed, slowly pushing himself up the sit up. He winced a few times, an arm wrapped around his middle as he glared at Warriors. “I mean that it’s your own fault for not telling anyone what’s triggering it. You still haven’t for Zephos sake.” 

“Does it matter?” 

“What kind of stupid question is that? Of course it fucking does!” 

“Language,” Warriors chidded, rubbing the sweat off the back of his neck. 

“Oh, fuck off. Don’t change the subject.” 

Blood and salt stung Warriors tongue and he had to keep himself from biting it off in sudden horror. The sand beneath his feet shifted slightly, and Warriors had to quickly steady his breathing before it could grow out of hand. Wind continued to stare at him through the silence, waiting for an answer as Warriors struggled to push down the memory rearing its ugly face. And so he did the only thing he could think of.

He lied straight through his grit teeth. 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Sailor. I don’t know what’s causing it.” 

The sun buzzed above them, filling the silence that had washed across the endless dunes. It took a while for that silence to shatter, and it did with a huff from Wind. “It’s me, isn’t it?” 

Warriors nearly lied again, the words resting comfortable on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out. Yet he couldn’t. 

So instead he took a long, shaking breath, shrugging his shoulders to hide the unease on his face. “I don’t like seeing you get hurt.” 

He wasn’t lying, he just wasn’t telling the whole truth. 

Wind scoffed, snapping his head to the side, not to look at the endless sea of sand, but rather, to look away from Warriors. “Even you, huh?” 

Something about the hollow bitterness in Wind’s voice sent a pang of ... something through Warriors. He wasn’t sure if it was confusion, regret, or sadness, but he knew whatever it was, he wasn’t a fan. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“That you all treat me like I’m a kid who needs to be protected.” Wind let out a long sigh, still not looking Warriors’ way. “I thought that you, out of everyone, would realize I’ve been through just as much as all of you have.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Warriors bit back, a little harsher than he meant to. “You know better than anyone else that I think of you just as highly as the others.” 

Wind didn’t speak for a few moments, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “Then tell me what you actually mean,” he eventually said. “Because that’s what it feels like.” 

“I—” Warriors felt the words die in his throat, his mind trailing off. “I can’t.” 

“...You really think that I—” 

“We’re back!” 

Wind’s words were cut short as Sky’s voice reached camp, their attention turning to the two figures unsteadily jogging down one of the many large dunes. Sky waved a hand lazily as he and Four drew nearer, the Smithy rushing to steady Sky as the sand slipped the balance out from under his feet. 

They reached the bottom of the dune quickly, their faces red from both exhaustion and the sun. It only made Warriors feel worse, lounging around lazily while the others worked themselves dry out in the unbearable desert. 

“You two okay?” Four practically panted out, his eyebrows knit together as he glanced back and forth between Wind and Warriors. His hair stuck to his sweat soaked face like glue, his headband doing jack-all to help. 

Sky looked even worse off than Four, his eyes distant as he furiously blinked the sweat away from his eyes. They’d both hiked their pants up as far as they would go, their legs coated in both sunburn and sand. Sky had gone as far as to remove his chainmail, tucking it into his bag as he let his tunic soak with sweat. 

Wind didn’t hesitate tossing them his waterskin as he slowly pushed himself up to stand. 

The two exhausted heroes snatched it up quickly, Sky letting Four practically drown himself while Sky worked to catch his breath. Before Four could drain the entire waterskin he handed it over to Sky, making his way over to Wind to help steady him. 

“What happened?” He stared at Warriors as he asked, a hand gripped tightly on Wind’s arm. 

Wind pulled away from Four’s grip before Warriors had a chance to answer, shrugging any additional help off. “The General needs to grow a pair and stop acting like a spineless moblin.” 

His tone was calm despite the blatant insult, and yet Wind glared holes through Warriors’ skull. He eventually sighed, turning around suddenly and marching off into the sea of sand. Four wasted no time in following after him, shooting Sky a small nod before disappearing over one of the many dunes that surrounded the camp. 

“...It’s Captain,” Warriors eventually muttered under his breath, though he knew that Wind had no way of possibly hearing him. Silent stares drilled into the back of Warriors’ head, and he did his best to ignore them. Yet he eventually caved in, slowly tilting his head to the side to watch as Sky crept closer to him, waterskin in hand and expression unreadable. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Warriors sighed, running his hands down his face to buy himself just a few more moments to sort out his thoughts. “...He got upset at me for not talking about my flashbacks.” 

“That ... doesn’t sound like Wind.” Sky settled into the sand beside Warriors, handing him the near empty waterskin before unclasping the badric around his chest. He gently laid the master Sword on the thin sheet just behind him, shifting to cross his legs. 

He was right, Wind wasn’t someone to get upset about things like that. Wind—just like anybody else—hated having secrets kept from him, but he was understanding when it came to the struggles of the others. 

As curious as the Sailor could be, he never pried into matters he knew he shouldn’t. 

“It’s my fault,” Warriors eventually admitted, digging his fingers into the sand. He grimaced as it scraped under his nails. “I’m keeping too many secrets and telling too many lies. He has every right to get frustrated.” 

Sky rested a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, squeezing it gently. “We all have secrets we’d rather not tell, but if keeping it in is hurting you or someone else...” he trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish his sentence for Warriors to understand.

If keeping secrets was driving him mad, maybe he shouldn’t be keeping secrets. 

Shaking his head slightly, Sky continued, “Just ... I know that this issue goes deeper than what you let on. And I can’t— I can’t tell you what the right choice for you to take is. You need to decide that yourself.” 

“I know,” Warriors sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the sky. 

“Then you need to make that decision soon,” Sky let go of Warriors’ shoulder, letting his hand drop to his side. “It’s not good for you or Wind to just not talk about it.” 

When Warriors said nothing in response—because really, what was he even supposed to say—Sky stood, brushing the sand out of his hair and off his legs. “I’m going to watch for the others, you should go find Wind. You need to settle whatever’s going on between you two, even if you don’t fully come clean.” 

Grabbing the Master Sword, Sky left Warriors alone on that thin blanket. He sat in the middle of a desert with a million thoughts and emotions running through his mind. Goddesses above, he knew what he had to do, but he really would rather not. 

And yet he slowly pushed himself to stand, walking deeper into the desert and closer to the instigator of his nightmares. 

* * *

Finding Wind wasn’t hard when there was nothing for him to hide behind in the goddess-damned desert. He and Four hadn’t made it far from camp, sitting in the sand just two minutes away from where their supplies were. 

Even from the distance between himself and the two heroes, Warriors could see that their conversation was ... energetic. Or at least, Wind’s side of the conversation was. He spoke largely with his hands, Four only offering an occasional nod or shrug. 

As Warriors steadily drew closer to the two heroes Four perked up, glancing Warriors’ way. He seemed beyond relieved to see Warriors stumbling his way through the sand. Wind didn’t. He didn’t seem irritated or angry in any sort of way, just indifferent. 

Warriors didn’t blame him. 

“Hey, Smithy? Would you mind giving us a minute?” Warriors tried to hide the exhaustion that crept up his throat as he slowed to a stop beside Wind. The desert heat made him feel sick, and running in full gear certainly hadn’t helped. 

Four nodded almost immediately, slowly brushing himself off as he stood. “Yeah, of course.” He turned from Warriors and Wind, pausing for a moment before turning back to place a hand on Wind’s shoulder. “Just holler if you need me.” 

Wind simply nodded as Four let go. The Smithy sighed, shooting Warriors an unreadable glance before beginning the trudge back up the sandy dune and toward camp. His departure left the two heroes sitting in silence, Warriors standing awkwardly while Wind stared blankly at the sand between his feet. 

It was near impossible for Warriors to even begin to sort through the thoughts that crashed around in his head. Part of him _screamed_ to keep quiet, to fabricate yet another lie to protect Wind, to protect _himself_. He wasn’t ready to admit the horrors that had haunted him his entire life, wasn’t ready to subject Wind to the knowledge that the goddesses had cursed him with. 

And yet that other part of him wanted nothing more than to tell Wind the whole truth. That had to be what the goddesses intended for him to do, right?

“...Sorry for getting irritated back there,” Wind eventually muttered under his breath. He wrung his hands together, almost nervously, and that simple action broke through Warriors’ awkward indecisiveness. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Sailor. You had every right to get frustrated.” The sand shifted as Warriors lowered himself to sit, almost as if the desert were preparing to swallow him whole. If it did, he wouldn’t complain. It would save him a conversation that he really didn’t want to have. 

Drawing his knees to his chest with a sigh, Wind shrugged, “I guess.” 

Everything that Warriors had been preparing to say, everything he had gone over in his head as he had trudged through the desert, it all disappeared the moment he tried to speak. He sat there for goddess knows how long, trying to find the words he wanted to say. 

“Do you really think that I don’t see you as an equal?” He eventually settled on, not quite ready to discuss what he needed to.

“...No, I was just—” Wind sighed, rubbing the back of his neck “—I was just getting defensive. So many people treat me like a kid, and I was just worried you were becoming one of them too.” 

“You’re more experienced than many men I’ve met, I would never look down on you like that,” Warriors was quick to jump in. Despite his quick answer, he agreed with every word he said. The Sailor was strong, stronger than many of the men that Warriors had led to war and stronger than even Warriors at times. 

The kid had guts, but he wasn’t obnoxious about it. 

“I just...” Warriors trailed off, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I’m not handling it well.” 

He turned, making sure to stare directly at Wind, and not the desert behind him. “I’m sorry,” he spoke with as much honesty he possibly could. 

Wind didn’t immediately respond, holding Warriors’ gaze before staring up at the sky. He squinted at the harsh sun shining on his face, yet continued to stare up at the sky regardless. 

“You’re worrying all of us, you know,” he spoke carefully, pausing slightly between each word, as if thinking them over individually. 

“I know.” 

“You should talk to Time about whatever’s got you so tense,” Wind sighed, tilting his head down to no longer stare at the sun. “Or Sky, they’re both good listeners.” 

Shaking his head, Warriors tucked his legs under him, ignoring the way the sand burned his hands. “No, I need to talk to you.” 

“...I _do_ have something to do with it, don’t I?” 

“Yeah.” 

Wind wrapped his arms around his legs, resting his cheek on his knees as he turned his attention toward Warriors. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?” He huffed softly, “We could’ve helped you before it got this bad.”

“I wasn’t sure how to talk about it.” Warriors dryly laughed at his predicament, imagining the goddesses howling up a storm at their own cruel joke. “I still don’t.” 

“We can talk about this later if—” 

“No,” Warriors cut him off, pursing his lips before continuing, “just give me a minute.” 

It took Warriors a few moments to sort through the jumbled remains of his thoughts. Wind sat silently in waiting for him to continue, his constant nervous shifting helping to ground Warriors in a weird way. 

“Ever since I can remember I’ve had these ... dreams,” Warriors started, his tongue feeling foreign and heavy in his mouth. He couldn’t look at Wind as he mulled over the next few words in his head. 

“Always scared me as a kid, and I guess they still _do_ scare me,” he continued slowly, laughing a bit at his admission. He hadn’t ... he’d never actually admitted he was scared to any of the heroes, had he? 

“They’ve only gotten worse and more vivid since I got roped up on this adventure with you and the others, and recently it’s just...” he sighed, resting his head in one of his hands. “It’s all just spiraled out of control.” 

“Dreams?” Wind looked almost taken aback, frowning ever so slightly. “What sort of dreams?” 

“I—” The words stuck in his throat, scratching his tongue like sandpaper as he opened and shut his mouth like a fool trying to speak. When the words refused to come, he sighed, leaning forward so his hair hung in his eyes. He wrung his hands together in his lap, tracing his old burns in habit.

“Look, we can talk about this later if it’s still got you so worked up.” Wind placed a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, patting it awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure what to do. “You apologized already so—” 

“I’ve dreamed of your death since as far back as my memory goes.” 

He blurted the words before he could think, slamming his mouth shut immediately after. The blood drained from his face, and he had to squeeze his hands together in a weak attempt to hold the warmth in his fingers. 

He shouldn’t have said that, he shouldn’t have just blurted that out of nowhere. Wind didn’t need to know about it, he didn’t have to hear about something as _morbid_ as that. 

Yet Wind didn’t react, at least not immediately. He simply stared at Warriors, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Captain, what are you ...” the faint laugh in his voice died out quickly. His smile fell as Warriors’ deminor didn’t change, and the Captain refused to meet Wind’s eyes. “You’re— you’re being serious.” 

Warriors nodded, his head still hanging low. “I didn’t figure out that I was dreaming about you specifically until just a few weeks ago.” 

“I—” Wind leaned back, unwrapping his arms from around his legs. “Just ... _how_?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“ _Why_?” 

“I don’t know,” Warriors repeated, his voice as hollow as ever. 

Wind didn’t say anything, expression unreadable as he shot up to his feet. He didn’t bother to brush the sand off himself before he began to pace. “How— how can you be certain? There’s no way that you—” 

“Excluding you and Tetra, there are six pirates on your crew.” Six pirates who stood no chance against the thirty or so _murderers_. Six pirates who stuck by their leader no matter how bleak the outcome seemed. Six pirates who had to abandon one of their own.

“Tetra wears a red bandana around her neck and Niko wears a blue one on his head. Tetra is the daughter of the _Terror of the Sea_ , whatever that means. Nudge—”

“I get it, I get it.” Wind stopped his pacing, running a hand through his hair before stopping, turning to face Warriors. “By Zephos, this is...” 

“I thought that maybe,” Warriors sighed, finally looking up from the sand, “maybe the goddesses gave me these dreams so I could help prevent what happens in them. Maybe I’m supposed to—” 

“No,” Wind cut him off almost instantly, his face paler than snow. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” 

The Sailor laughed, his voice wobbling just enough to make Warriors’ heart drop. “Goddesses, how fucked up is this, huh? You know how I die.” 

“Yeah,” Warriors whispered, just loud enough for Wind to hear, but quiet enough for the slight desert breeze to wash it away. 

Without warning the Sailor plopped back into the sand beside Warriors, looking at the Captain almost hesitantly. “It makes sense now, how weird you’ve been around me lately.” 

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to act so weird, I just...” Warriors didn’t finish that thought, but Wind’s pained expression said enough, he understood. 

Something seemed to snap Wind out of his distant expression, his features twisting in horror. “You’ve ... you’ve had these dreams since you were a _kid_.” 

“Yeah,” Warriors laughed. Nothing about their situation was funny. “No one ever believed me.” 

“For Hylia’s sake, are you _okay_?” 

“Are _you_?” 

Wind started to respond, but he seemed to think better of it. His teeth clicked shut as he frowned, still staring at Warriors, as if trying to pick the Captain apart with his gaze alone. “...I don’t know.” 

The rock of the ship, the shift of the sand. The boom of the storm, the buzz of the heat. It was all ... too much. Warriors couldn’t hear what Wind’s mind was doing, couldn’t see through whatever walls the Sailor had thrown up hastily. 

But Warriors was breaking inside, and he could only hope that Wind wasn’t doing the same.

“...Me either.” 

Neither of them spoke as the sun slowly dipped lower in the sky, no longer shining directly overhead. Neither of them moved, keeping a tense distance between themselves, no matter how uncomfortable it was. 

Eventually Wind sigh, a shaky, _broken_ sigh, “How— how soon do I—” 

“Not on this adventure,” Warriors choked out, trying his hardest to grasp at the fragile remains of his composure. He couldn’t shatter in front of Wind, not when the Sailor was so vulnerable. “Unless you do something stupid, you’ll go home to Grandma and Aryll in one piece.” 

He tried to ignore how his voice wavered with each word. 

“...Thank you.” 

Warriors didn’t have a response, so he settled for a small nod and a weak smile. 

“Should we ... go back to the others?” Wind practically whispered, digging his hands into the sand, but Warriors could see the way they shook slightly. “Are you okay to go back?” 

The Captain sighed, throwing his weight back to lay in the sand. It was an action he would regret later, when he would have to brush his entire body for sand, but in that moment he couldn’t have cared less. 

“Give me a few minutes.” 

It wasn’t until the sun had sunk considerably deeper in the sky, and the loud echoes of voices reached them, that the two broken heroes stood. Warriors froze as Wind’s arms wrapped around him, but the moment lasted just a few seconds before the Sailor began silently heading back toward camp. 

And like the cowardly fool he was, Warriors followed without another word. 

* * *

He opened his eyes to find that he was a child. 

He buried his small hands in the hem fabric of his oversized tunic, worrying away at his bottom lip. There were tears streaming down his rounded cheeks, his tear streaked skin causing his choppy hair to stick to his face. An overwhelming fear gripped his frantically pounding heart, glueing his little legs in place. 

He could not move, stuck shaking like a leaf caught in a violent storm. His eyes were wide in terror, and no matter how hard he tried to look away, he found he couldn’t. He didn’t want to watch, didn’t want to look. And yet that’s all he _could_ do. 

The pirates seemed like giants, their booming steps shaking the floor beneath Warriors’ feet like an earthquake. Warriors could only watch in horror as one of the pirates drew closer, marching right through him with ease and sending a shiver up his spine. It was as if he were a ghost, an apparition who could do nothing but watch the scene unfurl. 

His breath hitched each time a pirate passed through him, eventually bleeding into a muffled, hiccuping sob as a bloodied knife hovered inside his hand for just a moment. He felt like throwing up, his vision filled with the blood that soaked the storm ravaged ship. 

His brother seemed so small, laying on the ground in an ocean of red. 

Warriors watched, wide-eyed, as his brother attempted to shakily push himself off the ground. He shuddered and wheezed, barely managing to keep himself on his hands and knees. It was a blessing he hadn’t collapsed instantly, and that he continued to fight to stay upright as long as he did. 

A thick blue coat hid everything but his rain soaked hair. It stuck to his face and neck like glue, trails of blood dripping from the matted clumps down his usually bright and cheerful face. The light had been drained from the seafaring hero completely, his sun bleached hair stained by the storm and his skin pale, almost lifeless looking. 

The oversized coat wrapped around Wind’s shaking form only drove home just how _young_ and _small_ he was. 

Wind was only nineteen. 

He shook violently under the coat, the blood soaked fabric doing nothing but weighing him down even more. The sight made Warriors’ heart drop to his stomach, and yet all he could manage was a choked sob. He could not move, could not shut his eyes and beg the goddesses above for the nightmare to end. 

Warriors could only stand and watch as his little brother finally collapsed back to the deck, toppled over by a kick from a large, heavy boot. The boot pressed down on Wind’s back, making the Sailor gasp for breath. 

Barely managing to pull his hands to his mouth, Warriors clasped his cold fingers around his lips. He didn’t just look five years old again, he _felt_ it. He felt weak and terrified, his mind distorted by the confusion and fear of a child. It was too much, too much to see someone he’d admired so much reduced to a wheezing, struggling form. 

It was only after Wind stopped struggling and fell limp that the boot lifted from his back. To Warriors’ horror, Wind made no move to get up. His chest rose and fell unevenly, stuttering and stopping every few breaths to choke on his own blood. He didn’t struggle as the pirates grabbed his arms, lifting him to his feet only to drag him limply across the deck of the ship.

For the first time since the nightmare had begun, Warriors shut his eyes. He tightened his grip around his mouth, focusing on his breathing as Wind’s slack body passed straight through him. At the moment of freezing contact, Warriors’ eyes felt as though they were pried open, unable to blink or even squint. 

In his panic, he almost didn’t notice Wind’s head snap up, eyes wide and confused. He almost didn’t notice Wind struggling in the pirate’s hold, trying his hardest to turn his head to look back, to look back at _Warriors._

He almost didn’t see the pure sadness, the guilt, the _realization_ in Wind’s eyes as the Sailor stared at him. But he did see it, because no matter what he did, he wasn’t allowed to look away. 

Wind didn’t stare right through Warriors, he stared _at_ him. He had forced a small smile, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, only visible in the sudden flashes of light. He _saw_ Warriors, he saw the terrified kid forced to watch the death of his little brother. 

And he chose to smile, to try to reassure Warriors in his final moments that everything would be okay. 

Wind’s feet hung off the ship, the only thing keeping him from dropping into the raging sea below being the death grip of the pirate captain on his coat. He didn’t pay attention to the words of the pirates surrounding him, the jeers and laughs ringing across the stolen ship. He stared at Warriors, a wobbly smile on his bloodied face and pure determination and resilience shining in his eyes.

It was as if the noise of the world shut off as Wind parted his lips to speak. The crack of lightning across the sky was not followed by a deadening boom, the pirate’s mouths parted with soundless words, barked out inaudible laughs. 

All Warriors could hear was the hoarse crack of Wind’s voice. The smile hadn’t left his face as tears streamed down his face, his arms lip at his sides as he gave up struggling altogether. 

“It’s okay, Captain. I’m going to be okay.” 

Warriors had no chance to even open his mouth to scream in response. 

* * *

Wind couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t for a lack of trying, he’d been trying desperately to fall asleep for nearly three hours before finally giving up. He just couldn’t seem to get comfortable no matter what he did. 

His stomach still hurt, for one. It was a hassle and a half to settle into a comfortable position with his entire gut wrapped like a gibdo and slathered in whatever paste Twilight had claimed worked for soothing pain. Wind was almost positive it was chu jelly, but Twilight refused to answer when asked. It was frustrating, especially when it didn’t seem to work very well and Wind would _much_ rather not have cold monster jelly stuck to his skin. 

Although, Wind supposed his conversation with Warriors earlier that day had more to do with his sleepless night than his stomach, but pain was easier to comprehend. 

Just ... what was he supposed to think? It was both somewhat reassuring to know that he wouldn’t be kicking the bucket anytime on his adventure with the other heroes, yet also terrifying to know that it would happen eventually. Yeah, he’d figured out his whole _mortality_ thing pretty early into his adventure. One day he would face off against someone much bigger and stronger than him, and they wouldn’t have any mercy. 

It was still scary knowing for sure that death was what awaited his future. 

There were also the endless questions that came with Wind knowing that Warriors had somehow seen how he would meet his end. While it was nice that he hadn’t just told Wind that he’d like, slip on an ice cube, hit his head on a table, and die; not _knowing_ how he would die was slowly killing Wind inside. 

He didn’t die peacefully, that was for sure. Why would Warriors be so distraught if he did, afterall? Part of him wanted to march on over to Warriors and demand that he told Wind exactly how and when he died, and the other part of him wanted to curl into a ball and never speak of it again. 

Would he have time to say his goodbyes? Would he be allowed to hug Aryll and Grandma and Linebeck one last time? Could he leave his gear with Tetra, as a final gift? 

...Would it hurt? 

With a deep sigh Wind ripped the covers off himself, immediately regretting it as the soft chill of the desert wrapped around him instead. It wasn’t nearly as frigid as Wild’s desert could get, but it was still pretty damn cold. He missed Outset, where the only chill of night was the salty breeze on his skin and the gentle licks of waves against his feet. The beach never got unbearably cold, always wrapping the island inhabitants in comfort and warmth. 

So deserts could kiss his ass. 

A sharp intake of breath drew Wind’s attention away from his hatred of the desert. He turned, glancing over each of the sleeping heroes before shooting a quick glance to where Four sat with his back to the group. A small lamp sat next to him, and in the minimal light Wind could just barely see Four drawing in the sand.

He made no indication that he’d heard the same thing Wind had, though there was the chance that he was simply deciding to give whoever it was space. That was probably the best idea, to just settle back down and act as if he hadn’t heard anything, but Wind was too curious. What if one of the others was hurt, or having a nightmare?

Or trying to sneak out of camp like an idiot? Not that WInd had ever tried to do anything like that. 

He stood as quietly as possible, grabbing his discarded sheet and wrapping it around his shoulders. Four shot him a glance, yet turned back to his watch fairly quickly. His silence was appreciated, and Wind thanked the gods the Four had been on watch instead of Sky or Twilight. 

Mother cuccos, the both of them. 

Scanning over the pile of snoring heroes, it was fairly easy for Wind to pick out just who was making the pained racket. His stomach dropped once he realized who it was, for more reasons than he was willing to openly admit anytime soon.

Seeing Warriors tossing and turning like he was, mouth open in silent cries, it was enough to make Wind feel sick. And not sick in a way that Wind was familiar, like when a particularly nasty storm churned up his guts and left him weak on the ship railing. It was a twisting, deep sickness, one that tore apart Wind’s heart and mind as his body seemed to debate furiously on whether to throw up or cry.

He did neither, because he was stronger than some stupid twist in his gut and too curious for his own good. Composing himself, he decided on comforting Warriors. Afterall, the remlet killed curiosity, or whatever nonsense Sky had spouted a few days back. He didn’t actually quite understand what it meant, but it didn’t matter. 

With stealth that Wild could only _wish_ he had, Wind crept out from between his place sandwiched between Sky and Hyrule and over to Warriors’ side of camp. It took just a minute or so for Wind to find himself standing awkwardly over Warriors’ tear streaked face. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was supposed to be doing, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. Should he wake Warriors? Hug him? Go get Time? 

...Maybe not that last one. Time was _terrifying_ when he slept, and none of the heroes ever had the confidence to wake the Oldman. Not when Time always shot awake with an intent to kill, fear etched into his features. Wind wasn’t looking forward to the day where Time realized just a second too late that the figure standing over him wasn’t a monster of his past, but one of the other heroes. 

Plus, he slept with his eye open, and that creeped Wind out. 

Seeing no immediate solution to his particular problem, Wind took a deep breath to steel himself. Chances were that Warriors was having one of his hyper realistic nightmares about Wind’s death, so that was fun. It wouldn’t exactly be wise for the first thing for Warrior to see after being awoken from his death dream to be the face of the person responsible for those dreams, and Wind didn’t want to make the situation worse than it already was.

Looking over his choice, Wind could either do something brave, something stupid, or go back to sleep. So, Wind did probably the bravest _and_ stupidest thing he’d done in a while.

He kicked Warriors in the gut.

The Captain sputtered out a strangled cough, his arms flying to wrap around his stomach as he instinctively curled into himself. In hindsight, kicking him awake probably hadn’t been the best idea, but it’d worked out in the end. Wind wasn’t murdered, and Warriors woke with pain on the mind, and not death. 

So it was a win-win in Wind’s book. 

“It’s just me, Cap,” Wind leaned in to whisper, careful to keep enough distance between himself and Warriors in case the nightmare still lingered. 

Warriors groaned, tilting his head up to squint at Wind through the darkness. And, while Wind wasn’t exactly an expert on facial expressions—despite his rather vast repertoire of expressions himself—he had to guess that Warriors was just a _tad_ bit pissed about getting kicked in the gut. 

Though, Wind could’ve aimed lower. If anything, Warriors should've been grateful. 

“Hey, Sailor,” Warriors’ voice was rough, making Wind feel a bit bad about waking him. The Captain shook as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, motioning for Wind to join him on the sand. “You okay?”

“I think I’m the one who should be asking you that,” Wind huffed, careful to nudge Legend’s hand out of the way as to not sit on it. He swore the Veteran shifted, but Wind didn’t pay him much mind.

Warriors shrugged the question off, tossing part of his blanket around Wind’s shoulders and drawing him in closer. They didn’t say anything for a while, but it was nice. Wind almost forgot how much he missed being this close to Warriors, and how much he _hated_ getting into weird fights with him. 

Being a big brother was one of Wind’s favorite things in the whole sea. He wore the title of ‘Big Brother’ proudly. Yet having someone he could call his _own_ big brothers ... it was nice. Really, really nice. 

Even if one day he couldn’t ... wouldn’t—

Wing groaned, turning to bury his face in Warriors’ chest. He tangled his hands in the fabric of Warriors’ tunic. “This is fucking awful.” 

“Language,” Warriors chided, wrapping his arms around Wind before tucking the Sailor’s head under his chin. 

“You’re not my grandma.” Wind’s words were muffled by Warriors’ chest, which shook with silent laughs. 

“No, but I’ll snitch on you to her.”

Gasping dramatically, Wind pulled his head back enough to glare at Warriors. “You wouldn’t.” 

His poor grandma would have a heart attack if she learned just what Tetra and her crew had done to ‘corrupt’ her sweet grandson. Wind couldn’t live with that guilt, he couldn’t crush his grandma’s heart like that. 

He’d do worse than kick Warriors in the gut if the Captain ever told Grandma about Wind’s foul mouth. 

Warriors didn’t respond aside from continuing to laugh quietly, his tear streaked cheeks beginning to dry. If Wind noticed Warriors’ hold around him tightening, he sure as hell wasn’t about to say anything. He just wrapped his arms around Warriors’ neck, pressing the side of his face back into Warriors’ chest.

If Four told anyone about this, Wind wouldn’t even care. Maybe his poor pirate’s ego would, but he wouldn’t. He and Warriors both needed this, they needed a moment to just be brothers, and not heroes.

Once the Captain no longer shook with laughter and Wind found himself struggling to keep his eyes open, Warriors let out a deep sigh. “But really, are you okay?” 

“I’m not the one who needs to be answering that.” Wind curled his hands into fists, feeling the fabric on Warriors’ back bunch up under his palms. “You’re the one with the fu— messed up death visions.” 

Warriors didn’t immediately answer. He tangled one of his hands in Wind’s hair, ruffling it while he wrapped the other arm tighter around Wind’s shoulders. “...I’ll be okay.”

The wobble in his voice spoke otherwise. 

Wind bit his lip, glancing toward where Time slept. Maybe waking the Old Man wouldn’t be such a bad idea? He might be able to help Warriors with his nightmares more than Wind could ... or shoot, even Wild could. Those two seemed like experts on the matter.

Legend was too, but Wind was _absolutely not_ waking up Legend.

After a few seconds of contemplating his options, Wind figured that it would probably be best for someone else to handle Warriors. Wind was only going to make everything worse, afterall. 

“Hey, I’m going to go grab Time,” he whispered, pulling away from Warriors’ hold. Standing up, he adjusted the blanket around Warriors’ shoulders with a tight smile. “I’ll be right back.” 

A hand tugging on the hem of his tunic stopped Wind from stepping away. He glanced down at Warriors, and was almost frightened by how shaken his big brother looked. 

“Don’t go,” Warriors whispered, nearly too quiet for Wind to even hear. 

“...Okay.” 

Wind slowly settled back down, trying not to react as Warriors pulled him into a crushing hug. He couldn’t begin to fathom what Warriors had seen to shake him up so much. 

But it made Wind sick with fear. 

When Warriors’ shoulders began to softly shake, Wind gathered the courage to speak up. “Do you want to talk about—” 

“No.” 

“Okay.” 

Wind eventually found himself drifting off, his head tucked under Warriors’ chin and his face buried in the fabric of Warriors’ tunic. He swore he could feel eyes on his back from camp, but he ignored it.

He would be there for Warriors when he woke up, and he would be there for Warriors whenever the Captain decided he was ready to talk about it. 

That’s what a big brother would do, afterall. 

**Author's Note:**

> No characters will actually die during the events of this fic. However, their death will be built up to and expanded on vividly in memories, hence the Character Death tag and warning. I will not show 'final moments' of any sort, but enough will be spelled out for you to connect the dots. The characters are still alive and kicking from start to finish, but their future death will be one of the main elements of this story. Be aware of this if you don't like character death, do not subject yourself to reading something you do not like. There will be blood, violence, and emotional distress. I will make sure to put any possible TWs in the beginning notes of each chapter, so things can easily be skipped over.
> 
> I sidelined this idea in favor of Promises all those months ago, so it's nice to finally let it see the light!
> 
> (Unless there is some outcry for me to get a second chapter out asap, then this won't be updated very quickly. I need to finish the Forgotten series off before I dive headfirst into this, I just needed to get this first chapter off my chest haha.)
> 
> Please let me know if I need to add any warnings or tone down some warnings I may have added


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